Combustion
by Atlantia
Summary: MOVIEVERSE SamxBee. With Megatron defeated and the decepticons MIA, life begins to settle down for Sam. Except that his relationship with Mikaela isn't working, and maybe that's because things with Bumblebee are going a little too well. SLASH. Sequel up.
1. Chapter 1

**Combustion**

_Oh my god… I know it's weird but I just could NOT get this pairing out of my head. It's INSANE:) and yet, here I am actually writing one._

_Personally I'd never even thought about the concept before. Transformers were always just cool, big ass robots to me, but after seeing the movie I felt like reading some fanfiction and ran into a story with a Bumblebee/Sam pairing._

_My first thought was… "that's just weird – 30 foot robot, 5-6 foot boy…", but it was actually really good, and the more I thought about it the more it occurred to me that they do both really seem into each other :D So forgetting the question of sex and other stuff it could really just be a story about love that isn't necessarily about the physical._

_So I suppose you could call it SLASH… you know, if you consider bumblebee to be a guy. Which I do, since, you know, he IS a guy._

**Chapter 1**

The sounding of the horn was a loud blast in the afternoon air, disturbing the quiet of suburbia with a loud mechanised trumpet. With a grin, Sam leapt up from his computer and hastily threw on a shirt, barely pausing long enough to do up most of the buttons. Without stopping he bent over and grabbed his sneakers as he headed out the bedroom door, dropping his phone and wallet into them, then bounding down the stairs two at a time.

As he reached the bottom he saw his parents in the living room, anxiously staring out at the front yard through the drapes, looking almost exactly like a nosy couple spying on their neighbours. Of course they weren't really looking at the neighbours at all. If they had been Sam wouldn't have cared. Now though he let out an exasperated breath.

"He's not going to suddenly go on a rampage and kill everyone you know." They jumped what looked like a foot in the air, like a couple of teenagers caught sneaking out after curfew.

"You could always go out and say hello." His dad fidgeted and cleared his throat while his mother peered from behind his shoulder. Trust her to be able to face down armed government agents but be unable to handle that her son drove a robotic car.

"Now son, I know you trust it, but your mother and I; well we just can't be so accepting. At least not yet. It's all a little too much to grasp. I mean, talking to a car." Sam rolled his eyes at them, a slight grin on his face. He supposed anyone who hadn't been directly involved in the recent battle couldn't truly accept the concept of the Autobots and Decepticons. They'd never seen Bumblebee transform afterall, though the government had been nice enough to include them in the debriefing. Apparently they seemed to have blocked out most of it however, and decided that his companion must have just been an advanced robotic car.

"_It's_ a _He_ dad. And _He_ saved my life and incidentally yours. You might show a little gratitude and at least be civil to him." His father appeared ready to debate or comment further, but the doorbell rang with a suddenness that made them all jump. It had only been a few weeks since the "terrorist bombing" incident had occurred, and they were all still a little on edge about who or what might come knocking at their door. As he set his eye to the peephole however he let out a relieved sigh.

"It's Mikaela." Behind him he could swear his parents brightened instantly, Bumblebee and the Transformers instantly forgotten with the reminder that their son had met a girl. He grimaced, his stomach suddenly feeling a little unsettled, and opened the door with a click. Mikaela was standing there in a pair of tight jeans and a very snug top, though surprisingly for her there was no flesh exposed around her midriff. She looked dressed up, and Sam suddenly got a sinking feeling.

"Hey Mikaela. Um. What's up?" Within a second her expression had changed from happy to amused acceptance.

"You completely forgot didn't you?" Sam's brain whirled as he desperately tried to remember what he'd forgotten. If he'd been a transformer he was sure the clicking and whirring would be audible from a block away. Of course transformers probably didn't forget things at all, what with being computers. He'd have to remember to ask Bumblebee about it sometime. Imagine what memories he must have. Space, other worlds, other people. It really was quite fasci…

A throat cleared in front of him, reminding him that Mikaela was still there, and his parents were still standing behind him, staring.

"Uh… Sorry?" He figured it was always good to start with an apology.

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine Sam. We can still make the movie. You ready to go?" Blood rushed to his face as he blushed with embarrassment, looking down at the floor in an attempt to hide it.

"Actually, well, you see. Um… B and I have plans." A frown appeared on Mikaela's forehead then, filtering down over the rest of her, until she was standing there with her hands on her hips. The expression though, thankfully, was more disappointment than anger.

"They're having an open day over at Fairfield race track, today only, so, well, me and B were gonna head over and do some laps…" his voice faded out as he saw her start to smile again, a slightly sardonic edge to it that sent a rush of nervousness through him. It reminded him suddenly of the day he'd invited her into his car. He didn't need to look behind him to feel the disapproval from his parents. It scorched him like a heat on his back, almost like a voice saying 'don't blow it with this girl, you'll never do better.' The sad thing was he agreed with them, he probably couldn't ever do better. Standing there in front of him she looked fantastic, everything a football quarterback had hanging off his arm and everything a normal guy (wet) dreamed of.

For some reason however, it no longer excited him like it did at the start. Maybe it was because right now, behind her, was an alien robot disguised as a car. An alien robot who, for some reason, _liked_ hanging around with him. The same one who had even asked if he could stay with him, when he could have been with the other Autobots. His insides twisted with indecision and his mouth opened and closed without sound. His brain told him that the decision really shouldn't be that difficult. Hot girl, date, movie, the choice seemed obvious. But deep down he found he _really _didn't want to go. Not because he didn't like Mikaela, he did, but because that would mean 2 hours of Bumblebee sitting in a parking garage while he fretted in the theatre about him. Then it would mean Bumblebee sitting in either his driveway or Mikaela's as they hung out together afterwards, and then finally sitting all night in the driveway while he slept. It really wasn't very fair at all to a guy who had saved his life and protected him through the whole recent debacle.

Plus dating was hard work, he'd have to be entertaining, witty, interesting. Sure Mikaela probably knew by now that he wasn't those things but it still felt as though he should be. He'd have to sit there wondering whether he should hold her hand. Was he meant to say something funny to a remark onscreen? Did she want him to hug her when the hero dies and leaves his wife alone? Was his hand too sweaty? Did she want some of his popcorn? Was she too cold? Too hot? He really wanted the simplicity that he had with Bumblebee today. Just the two of them, together, enjoying each other's company and the feel of the road as they flew along.

And he got that feeling then that had hit him a few times since he and Mikaela had been together, that one that told him it _wasn't_ _supposed_ to be this hard for two people. Most couples ended up sharing their friends and time when they got together, but that didn't seem to be working here. Whenever he was with the two of them together there was a kind of awkwardness that fell across both of them, as though his car and his girlfriend weren't quite comfortable around each other. He'd asked Bumblebee about it once, to which the car had responded only by saying "you are my driver Sam." The comment had done exactly nothing towards clearing up what the problem was, and Mikaela wasn't any help either. In fact she'd been even less helpful, only stating that "the two of us get on great. We just have conflicting interests."

He didn't know what they were fighting about, or even if they _were _actually fighting. They never yelled, never argued, but somehow it felt like they were in competition over something, and he was always having to choose one or the other. He didn't understand, and it left him feeling terrible. Every time he chose to hang out with Bumblebee it seemed he was letting everyone else down. He really didn't want to disappoint Mikaela, or his parents, but wasn't there supposed to be more when you were with someone than just doing what made everyone _else _happy?

"It's fine Sam. We can forget the movie." Her voice was soft and understanding, the smile she gave completely without anger or bitterness. He looked up at her in relief, and let out an anxious breath. He stepped out the door as she stepped to the side, following him down the front stairs to where Bumblebee was sitting brightly in the driveway waiting.

"Thanks Mikaela. I really appreciate it. We can go see the movie another time yeah?" She nodded beside him, holding his phone and wallet as he awkwardly pulled his shoes on while standing up.

"Sure Sam. I'd love to." He stretched out his hand, taking back the items and turning towards the car, the engine already running in anticipation.

"So can I come with, to the track?" Sam froze, slowly pivoting towards her, his mouth moving like a fish again. He could see his parents standing in the still open front door watching the whole scene, and desperately just wanted to jump into Bumblebee and be off before this got any worse. He emitted a few unintelligible noises which could have meant anything, and then Bumblebee revved beside him, the vibrations travelling straight up his spine like the brush of fingers.

"Uh, B and I really wanted to just hang out by ourselves today." The words left his mouth without conscious thought, a response to the refusal he sensed in the engine purr beside him. The driver's door opened with a click, swinging wide, an invitation for Sam to get in. The passenger's door however, stayed firmly closed.

"I'll chat to you tonight huh?" He'd barely uttered the words before the door slammed shut again, sealing him inside. He leant heavily back into the leather seat, banging his head into the headrest in frustration. Surrounding him, he felt B gun it out of the driveway, and he looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of Mikaela in the mirror. Surprisingly she didn't seem upset in the least, in fact her smile was almost self-satisfied, like Sylvester when he caught Tweety. He closed his eyes and banged his head back into the seat again.

"Stupid. Stupid." He didn't know what he'd been thinking, turning down Mikaela and the movie, a couple of months ago he'd have driven his car off a cliff to impress her. He'd just changed so much since then, as, no doubt, had she, and things seemed different. He no longer felt the urge to prove himself to her, no longer feeling as though he was unworthy of her attention. They'd been through hell together and come out the other end in one piece. Maybe that had changed their potential feelings. He no longer saw her as a perfect, unattainable symbol as she used to be, but more as a fellow person, flawed and chaotic as he was. Maybe it had just been the allure of the forbidden that had drawn him to her in the first place. He ran a hand over the steering wheel, feeling the soft leather that encased it.

"Am I an idiot B? Have I just screwed up majorly?" The dash in front of him lit up as the radio came on, breaking the silence of the cabin. The station was one he probably wouldn't have listened to normally, soft and lyrical.

"_And she will always carry on, something is lost, but something is found.  
They will keep on speaking her name, some things change, some stay the same_."

He didn't know why B still chose to use the radio while in car form, but the song was soothing, so he sank back into the leather. His companion was right. Things always changed; people, places, they were all subject to time and distance. Maybe he and Mikaela had simply passed the point where they could be more than friends. He turned to watch the scenery flying by outside the window and smiled at his reflection. Sitting here, safe inside B, knowing the autobot would do anything for him, as he would in return, thoughts of being with Mikaela didn't seem as important as before.

His parents would be so disappointed.

_Fin_


	2. Chapter 2

**Combustion**

_Wow! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter for this story. I was never planning on making it a one off, so there will be a couple more chapters yet. I'm full of ideas – you know, now that I can look at myself in the mirror again for considering this pairing :)_

_Nah, kidding!_

_Anyway, without further ado (is that how you spell it), here's_

**Chapter 2**

Sam stared around at the people and cars crowded everywhere in the parking lot beside the raceway, nervous and uncomfortable. He'd planned it to be the most perfect day, and for a while it had been. The sun had shone down without fail, not even a hint of a cloud to mar the afternoon. It had been just about the spot on temperature, warm enough to enjoy, but cool enough not to sweat. In the distance, the speedway stretched off away from the entry, the black asphalt like a sinuous snake curving around the grass and gravel. But for Sam the day had changed things in ways he didn't even realise yet. Even looking back at their race mere hours ago was like feeling it anew, and his palm unconsciously tensed on the smooth yellow bonnet. The experience was like a nuclear blast in his mind, sweeping all before it in a wave, which more and more was changing the landscape of Sam Witwicky into something completely new.

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The queue of cars ahead of them, awaiting their turn on the track, had seemed endless as the two of them sat there under the midday sun. The anticipation had been like a living thing between them, Sam for his first chance to really drive beyond suburban commuting, and B to experience his driver. As those before them pulled in after their turn they seemed exhilarated, lifted, like the cares of the world had been momentarily taken off their shoulders, and Sam couldn't wait to feel that.

They had taken turns driving to start with, B giving him tips through an occasional correction of the wheel or adjustment of the pedals as their speed gradually increased. The outside world had flown past in a blur as the two of them released their frustrations into the glorious sensation of speed and isolation. They were the only car on the track, each person that had turned up being given six laps to let loose. There would be no actual competition with multiple cars on the raceway, the risk of injury and destruction was too great with unexperienced drivers. The winner would be determined on a best time basis, so they had the entire circuit completely to themselves. Sam grinned like an idiot, revelling in the sensation, so completely different to driving down a road or street. The thrum of the engine filled the entire cabin like a heartbeat, the vibrations travelling through the floor into his feet and then up the chair, shooting over his spine. His body shivered, clutched in the warm embrace of Bumblebee's interior, a sense of anticipation building within him that seemed unrelated to the track ahead of them.

His hands held the wheel in a gentle embrace, almost caressing the leather as he turned back and forth. It was an intimate moment, man and machine, testing themselves and each other with nothing around to interfere or restrain them. He couldn't think of a single other place or time that he would possibly want to be right then, surrounded by friendship that meant more than lunches and movies. Bumblebee seemed to feel the same way, as the longer they continued around the course the deeper and throatier the engine tone became, sinking to a deep murmur that brought to mind a lover's seductive tone. He unconsciously licked his lips at the thought, sinking back into the warm leather that almost seemed to hold him. Around him, the air in the cabin slowly became charged, a smothering, cloying closeness that threatened both to suffocate and free him at the same time. It almost seemed that communication between them ceased to be necessary then, man and machine almost of one being.

The grin froze on his face, then slowly slipped as somewhere in the back of Sam's mind a voice screamed that something was going wrong; that something was happening that wasn't what it should be; but it was drowned out by the roar of the engine that suddenly seemed to have somehow seeped right down to his bones. Previously gentle hands were now white knuckled, clenched around the wheel in a death grip, more a desperate attempt to hold onto some part of himself than as an aid to their driving. He didn't understand what was happening as he _felt_ Bumblebee around him, but the sensation was driving him mad. A small moan escaped him, half pleasure, half terror, as they rounded into the final stretch. He didn't know what would happen if the nerve dissolving bliss within him reached completion, and it occurred to him then that even had he really wanted to, he couldn't do anything to stop it. B filled every part of him, smell, sound, sight, even tasting him in the air. The voice cried out to him again, much weaker this time, reminding him of Mikaela and his family, questioning exactly what was happening and what it would mean when it was over.

He couldn't breathe anymore, the crushing weight of being so completely overwhelmed by another being leaving him without control of his own body. His heart was clawing at his chest like a rabid tiger, sharp stabs of pain that left him hollow and empty, reminding him of how he'd felt as he'd watched B dragged away, powerless to resist. It almost felt like he was being carved out on the inside, becoming an empty vessel, waiting for his companion to fill him. And somewhere within Bumblebee he felt something respond to that, a new throbbing beginning, one not remotely associated with the redlining engine. This one was much slower, much deeper within the robot, a throbbing more felt in his mind than through his skin. It seemed to shine behind his eyes, with a brilliance that would have been blinding, had the vision not existed solely in his mind. _Spark._ The word resonated in him to the same tune as the glow. Bumblebee's heart, his very soul.The light grew stronger as he recognised it, the brightness threatening to burn his mind to ashes. He could almost feel tentative touches of something brushing inside as the light began to engulf him. He struggled and gave in at the same time, fighting against it with every ounce of his being and falling reverently down before it in supplication. His lungs burned in his chest like coals, refusing to take the breath they so desperately needed, while his heart beat an irregular and spasmodic pulse. His body was like stone to him, unmoving and unresponsive, an empty shell that simply held his mind in place, eyes and mouth thrown wide in ecstasy and pain. He felt himself dieing in that moment, as the light grew closer, his heart straining beyond the point the muscle could tolerate, desperately trying to feed his system oxygen that wasn't there. He couldn't stop it, couldn't explain it, and part of him didn't want to. He could feel darkness approaching him, even with the brilliance shining in his mind, and a tear leaked out, sliding down his right cheek until he tasted a salty wetness on his lips. It hung there for a brief moment, suspended then dropped onto the leather of the seat, and it suddenly seemed that Bumblebee realised something was wrong.

The frantic, almost desperate, pace of the engine abruptly stuttered, revving wildly up and down the spectrum. The glow vanished in a flash, his eyes trying to adjust first to the light that hadn't existed, then to the real light that did. The steering wheel shuddered in his grasp, then spun uncontrollably, throwing his hands off in the process. He drew in a gasping breath that arched his chest away from the seat as his hands separated, his lungs screaming at him for oxygen. The squeal of tyres penetrated the interior of his little world as the erratic steering sent them into a slide through the gravel beside the track, then into the pit area. Even as the force pulled him hard against his seat belt, he felt the AC blast to full, fresh cool air hitting him directly in the face, the cloying, drowning sensation blowing away like a fog. As control slowly seemed to return to him he felt more tears escaping down his face and he shook uncontrollably. His breathing was laboured and his heart was beating almost the same speed as B's engine.

When they finally squealed to a halt he scrabbled desperately to reach for the door handle, but it swung open like it was spring loaded before he could lay a finger on it. He staggered out, hand grabbing onto the roof for support as the door very gently closed behind him. In spite of his efforts, Sam felt his legs give out anyway, and he dropped like a stone to the hard asphalt. His knees connected first with the rough surface, but before his head could make contact, a subtle noise and a shift from beside him resulted in part of the front fender catching his chest, lowering him gently down and rolling him onto his back. His body wouldn't stop shaking, and the bright sun above him was blinding to his eyes, reminding him painfully of another light. He squeezed his eyes shut, so desperate to block it out that he saw spots. He could feel concern radiating from Bumblebee like heat, and he managed to pull enough energy to lift a hand and casually rest it on the fender, that light touch revealing that B was vibrating like a taut guitar string. The wheel turned minutely forward, nuzzling the fender into his hand with something between concern and apology. The movement caused a momentary panic and his hand shot away as though burned. Sam didn't know what exactly had happened out on the track between them, but he knew what the cause of it had been, even if he wasn't ready to admit what it was. He couldn't lay all the blame solely with his… friend? Partner? Nevertheless it took a long time for his tears to finally stop, and an even longer time before he could touch the yellow paint again.

An uncommon silence descended over the two of them as the afternoon wore on, Bumblebee not even idling, Sam motionless on the ground beside him. Eventually however the sounds of the world around them made it back into Sam's ears, bringing his attention to the fact that the sun was now substantially lower in the sky. He stood up slowly, hand pausing briefly in fear and indecision, before using B's hood as a support, a questioning, slightly scared buzz permeating through the metal. He managed to give his friend a somewhat watery smile of reassurance. The edges of his mouth wavered a little however, as they peered into the dark interior that had always seemed so warm and inviting to him before.

Sam stared around at the people and cars crowded everywhere in the parking lot beside the raceway, nervous and uncomfortable. He'd planned it to be the most perfect day, and for a while it had been. The sun had shone down without fail, not even a hint of a cloud to mar the afternoon. It had been just about the spot on temperature, warm enough to enjoy, but cool enough not to sweat. In the distance, the speedway stretched off away from the entry, the black asphalt like a sinuous snake curving around the grass and gravel. But for Sam the day had changed things in ways he didn't even realise yet. Even looking back at their race mere hours ago was like feeling it anew, and his palm unconsciously tensed on the smooth yellow bonnet. The experience was like a nuclear blast in his mind, sweeping all before it in a wave, which more and more was changing the landscape of Sam Witwicky into something completely new.

The door beside him opened with a click, a silent invitation to leave this place, and he carefully climbed inside. The pungent odour of his fear and sweat seemed to fill the cabin, despite the fact that the AC was cycling in outside air, and for the first time he felt trepidation about being alone with B.

"I am sorry Sam." The voice was soft, and surprisingly, not a song from the radio but B's actual voice. He felt still fresh tears spring into his eyes again, shivering at how exposed he suddenly felt sitting there.

"It's ok B." He knew part of him had _wanted_ what had almost happened between them, whatever it might have been, so he couldn't blame the autobot for it. In fact his terror partly stemmed from the fact that deep down, he _still_ wanted it. And that, above all things, just wasn't possible. His mind refused to even acknowledge what _it _was, by putting a name to it, let alone participate in any act that related to it.

"I just," He swallowed awkwardly to suppress the surge of bile he felt in his stomach, "I never really thought about… us… like that before." And he hadn't. In all the time they spent together, the struggles against the Decepticons, the trauma he had felt at B's capture and later wounding, it had never once occurred to him that what he felt went beyond just friendship. Looking back at it he was amazed that he hadn't wondered about it before; but he had been so focussed on Mikaela then, so desperate to prove to himself and his parents that he could get the girl. At the moment it looked like he wouldn't get the girl anyway. Oh he wasn't sure he was ready to admit that he could possibly have anything with his car, but he already knew that what he had with Mikaela wouldn't work. The incident on the track seared his nerves, reminding him exactly how intense it had all been. Beneath the turmoil and doubt there was still the humbling knowledge that somehow he had seen right into the depths of B, to the core that rested within, surely a gift that not many got to witness. He wasn't precisely sure what love was supposed to feel like, but he knew what he'd felt with Bumblebee was closer than his relationship with Mikaela.

"I _am_ sorry Sam. I was not thinking." A brief shudder seemed to travel through the length of the car then.

"I was not expecting to ever feel something like that." Sam felt himself smile then, a little more firmly than moments ago. At least, if anything, that meant that if he was weird for feeling… _it_… for his metallic partner, then said partner was equally weird. He relaxed a little, feeling slightly more at ease with the admission that Bumblebee hadn't ever felt what had just happened before either.

"It'll be fine B. Really." His voice was soft, but absolutely confident. He didn't know what was going to happen to the two of them, but he had no doubt that whatever the result was, they'd both deal with it together. They'd always been good together.

They'd always been _great_ together.

"I just need time." He felt a slight vibration of understanding and acceptance pass through the carpet shrouded metal beneath his feet, and settled back for the trip home. He gently laid a hand on the steering wheel, then swiftly pulled it away as it shivered with his touch. A flash of light exploded behind his eyelids, accompanied by that same deep pulse, that was B's deepest core.

That _was_ B.

Evidently the experience had left a lasting impact on both of them, not just him. Apprehension followed the fading light and sound in his mind, and he desperately hoped that Optimus at least would know what was happening. The engine started with a throb, which shot straight up Sam's spine to his chest, his entire being resonating with the sound. The sensation took his breath away again, and he grit his teeth, forcing his lungs to draw air in and out. The sound of the engine was unsteady as they pulled away, evidence that sitting in B was having the same effect for the autobot as it was for him. He reached out and ran his hand gently across the centre console, feeling and hearing the engine shoot past the red line, while light filled his eyes.

Hopefully this was all just temporary, a result of increased hormones, and their robot equivalent, after the incident on the track.

Optimus had to have an answer. Didn't he?

_Fin_

_I'm not 100 happy with how this turned out. It went through about 5 versions before I settled on this one._


	3. Chapter 3

**Combustion**

_Well I was so hyped up after I wrote chapter 2 that I just had to keep going. So many ideas that demanded to be written._

_I just love this pairing so much now :) _

_Thanks so much again to the people who reviewed chapter 2. I'm glad people like the way I took it._

**Chapter 3**

The trees at the edge of the clearing had not moved in almost two hours now, but Sam continued to stare at them with an intensity that didn't suit the uninteresting nature of his subject. He thought he could almost tell how many trees of each species there were after so long watching them, and if it wasn't for the almost "Blair Witch" like aspect of the whole place he might have charged in just for the sake of _doing_ something. The muscles in his legs ached now, protesting the non-stop back and forth motion of his pacing over the rough gravel and earth, but he had nowhere to sit, and if he sat he'd only have more energy to devote to thinking. An activity which was definitely not something he wanted to do at the moment.

"Sam?" The voice seemed to come from nowhere, causing him to start like a rabbit. It was a sign of how distracted and out of it he really was that he had somehow managed to entirely miss Mikaela arriving at the overlook. He hadn't heard her car engine, the door opening and closing, or her footsteps across the gravel and grass, and the headlights that shone into his face only now began to register. His eyes, along with the rest of his senses, had been totally focussed on the far end of the plateau. The last place he'd seen Bumblebee as he left to track down Optimus Prime.

Now that he'd had time to think on it, he didn't know why the other bot hadn't simply called his commander and asked him to come to them, but B hadn't been very talkative since they'd left the racetrack behind. Of course he hadn't been either, not knowing what to say to something he didn't really understand. So he had quietly nodded as his car explained where he was going, then transformed into his robot form and headed off into the wilderness. He'd thought he'd be fine, he was only a few miles from town and he had his cell, he was hardly abandoned in nowhere's land. Yet it had only been ten agonizing minutes later that he'd felt the loneliness set in, an unpleasant sensation reminding him that since Bumblebee had come into his life he hadn't actually ever been alone. His companion and protector had always been parked outside, or waiting in the driveway, he'd always just been there when he was needed. The feel of B's hand gently cradling him after his fall from Optimus's shoulder still brought a smile to his face. It wasn't a dedication and commitment that one found easily amongst other people.

People were busy, people were biological, people were fickle. They had lives to lead, people to see, friends to visit, work to do, families to be there for… a world of their own to inhabit. With B it was different. With B it felt like Sam _was _his world. He'd shivered at that realisation, starting to pace as the tears trailed salty tracks down his cheeks, arms wrapping around himself to ward off a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

He'd continued that routine for over an hour, twenty steps this way, turn, twenty steps that way, turn… While around him the sun had crept closer and closer to the horizon. It hadn't been until he'd seen the streetlights flicker on in the valley below him that he had realised exactly how low the sun had gone. His watch agreed with the red sky above, and he desperately strained to hear a sign of anything that might have been two large alien robots returning through the woods. Nothing but silence and the occasional bird call reached his ears however, so, with mounting anxiety, he had eventually caved in, and with shaking fingers dialled Mikaela's number on his cell.

It was evidence of how much of a friend she was, or perhaps how much they had been through recently, that she hadn't asked a single question about 'why' when she'd answered the phone. She'd stayed on the line only long enough to make sure that he wasn't in any immediate danger, and then to ask where he was and tell him she'd be there in fifteen minutes. He'd thanked her with a sense of relief that seemed incongruous with the fact that he knew they were fated to break up, and then promptly gone back to his pacing, reduced now to more of a pathetic shuffle. Around him the setting was beautiful. The clearing at the top of the overlook was bathed in an orange/gold light, as the blazing ball of the sun continued its descent behind the horizon. A light breeze stirred the treetops, bringing not quite a chill yet, but taking the comfortable edge off the warmth of the day. All of it was lost on Sam however, and to his unfocussed thoughts it didn't seem at all like fifteen minutes later when Mikaela's soft voice pulled his attention away from the foliage.

She was looking stunning in the golden light, a long brown jacket hugging her from neck to knee over a short denim skirt and low cut top. It was the sort of vision that a couple of months ago would have had him drooling, but now the sight only reminded him of what he _should_ be worrying over; girls and school. Instead he was half panicking about his missing robot companion, who he hadn't realised until now was such a large part of his life.

Something about his stance must have told her that he was on edge, and she held her arms open, allowing him to step in and wrap him in a hug. The pressure of her arms enfolding him and her breasts resting against his chest caused as little reaction as the sight of her in those fantastic clothes. He tried, really tried, to coax some sort of response from himself, willing his face to blush or his pulse to quicken, but instead her warmth only made him uncomfortable. It was another of the nails into his already pretty much sealed coffin, and he sighed against her neck, one tear leaving a spot on the brown faux fur collar.

"It's ok Sam. Whatever's happened we can sort it out." Her soothing voice was beside his ear, one of her hands rubbing in a calming motion up and down his back. It didn't work like it was supposed to, the motion felt like a pale imitation of real sensation after what he and Bumblebee had experienced earlier. It only left him more awkward and alone. He stepped away from her, breaking the circle of her hug and letting her arms drop to her sides. She was looking at him intently, obviously trying to figure out what she could do to help him through whatever was happening. His eyes couldn't quite meet hers as he went to speak, but his mouth paused half open, stumbling over exactly how to phrase what he needed to say.

"Kaela, you know we're, well, great friends…" He stopped, realising exactly how much he sounded like a character in a bad teenager chick flick. He didn't want this to be a scene, he wanted to let her know that she meant a lot to him, and always would. They'd fought an intergalactic war together, and with his reputation as a bit of a loser at school, she was probably the best friend he'd ever had. He had no idea how he could possibly tell her what was happening when he wasn't even sure himself. His eyes flicked again to the tree line, how would one even carry on a relationship with a machine? Let alone one that was thirty feet tall. Did Autobots even feel emotions like humans?

"Something happened with Bumblebee." It had not been him that said it, the admission coming from Mikaela instead. He desperately searched her words for any sign of scorn or disgust, fearing she would abandon their friendship for what had happened. Her voice had been perfectly level however, without anger, and, he just noticed, not a question. His cheeks flushed with colour and he stared determinedly at her boots, embarrassment flooding through him that somehow _it_ must have been obvious to everyone else.

"You knew?" Her breath gusted across his downturned face as she let out a sigh.

"I knew. Not at the start, maybe, but after B was caught, and when he was injured, I started to wonder." He looked quickly at her face, seeing only sympathy there, and then off to the side where the tree's still mocked him with their silence.

"Was it really that obvious?" He dreaded the answer, somehow wanting to believe that he had not been secretly pining over his car for months.

"Not obvious, no, but definitely there." She gently touched his arm, turning him around and guiding him towards the tailgate of her truck where they could sit down. She snuggled up beside him, slipping an arm around his waist.

"You always wanted to spend time with him, even over me, despite the fact that we were meant to be dating. I was a little pissed to start off with, but it all started coming together for me after that." She laughed a little, the sound surprisingly light hearted for what, to him, was a life shattering moment.

"Especially when Bumblebee started behaving the same way towards you." He looked at her then in surprise, her face barely a hairs breadth away, seeing the amusement she was clearly feeling dancing in her eyes.

"He did?" She really laughed then, rolling her eyes at him and tilting her head to the side.

"Of _course_ he did. God it was like being a third wheel everytime I was with you guys. You don't remember the way he always wanted it to just be the two of you? The activities he suddenly wanted to do when we'd already made plans?" It seemed obvious when someone outside pointed them out to you, but on their own each little incident had been unremarkable. So what if Bumblebee had arranged a trip the weekend he was supposed to take Mikaela camping? That had been an accident. And the drive in movie B had wanted to take him to see? Well that had been a one night only event, a premiere; it had nothing to do with he and Mikaela going out for dinner. He'd fallen asleep during the movie anyway, what was there to read into that? Although…

"Was it the drive in?" She nodded, and he felt the blush rise again as he remembered that night. They'd been there to see some new Sandra Bullock film. B had somehow convinced him to go, in spite of the fact that a) he'd had plans with Mikaela, and b) it was a chick flick with Sandra Bullock in it. They'd had a great time for the first half of the movie, laughing at the acting, pointing out the plot holes, and cringing at the romantic trash that flew from the hero's mouth. By about three quarters of the way through he'd been getting increasingly tired, not helped by the way B gradually reclined the seat and adjusted the AC to just the temperature he liked to sleep at. He hadn't lasted to see whether the two leads had made it work together or not, curling up on the warm seat and eventually drifting off.

When he'd gradually stirred the next morning the radio had been set to something soothing and classical, the AC working to fight the morning sun shining on the glass. He'd been so warm and comfortable that he'd just about gone back to sleep, when a sharp knocking on the windscreen had brought him irrevocably to consciousness. Mikaela had been standing outside, Sam's house behind her, staring at him, pointing to her watch and attempting to open the door. It had stayed firmly unmoved by her attempts. At some point during the night he had obviously shifted, and he was draped across the centre console, head resting on his arm as a pillow, the arm itself curled around B's gear shift. His legs were stretched out in the footwell, the pedals and steering wheel lifted up and away from where he might accidentally have hit himself against them.

How had he not seen this whole thing coming? Because nothing Bumblebee had ever done had been beyond what a friend might do in the same situation, ok, admittedly a very possessive friend, but it didn't seem like that big a deal.

"Is there something wrong with me? With this?" His voice was cowed and his shoulders hunched a little, as he'd used to whenever he was anticipating a blow from one of the bullies at school. Since the whole Mikaela and being involved with the "terrorist" activities had happened he hadn't had to worry about it as much, but old habits were hard to break out of. Instead of the blow however, her hand gently cupped his chin and tilted it upwards so she could see his face.

"Not at all Sam. You don't need to explain your feelings. Not to me and not to anyone." She ran her hand down his cheek and smiled at him, resting her head on his shoulder and looking out at the last crescent of the disappearing sun.

"Emotions are something that are beyond our control. You can no more make yourself love someone than you can make yourself stop breathing. It's a part of who you are." Their legs were dangling in the air beneath them, and Mikaela gave him a gentle squeeze. He squirmed a little, suddenly feeling awkward around her, as he had when they'd first met.

"But do I?" He looked at her in desperation, both hoping for and dreading the answer. He couldn't see clearly enough to tell anymore. The boundaries between friendship and love were as close as those between love and hate, all three forming a link that seemed a little too fluid for his liking at the moment. How easy would it be to just start hating Bumblebee for what had almost happened, whatever that was, or to just give in and live with the consequences.

She looked at him in confusion.

"Do you what? Love him?" He cringed and blushed at the same time, his lips grimacing slightly as he again looked away from her. He was really starting to hate that word. It conjured up images of roses and chocolates, of nights curled up with a movie before heading to the bedroom, and of waking up together, wrapped in each others arms under the comforter. He couldn't have any of that with B, couldn't even really be with him at all. It was a sobering and depressing thought.

"Yeah. Do I…?" It was barely a whisper, yet filled with the weight of the world to his own ears.

"Only you can answer that Sam. I know you'd like me to just tell you yes or no, but I can't." Slowly, he nodded, understanding what she was saying, but not liking it anymore because of that. This wasn't like a crush on someone that would either turn into something more or fizzle away, this was serious, and definitely life changing. Saying that your feelings couldn't be wrong was one thing, but this was completely different…

"Something happened Kaela. On the track today. Between us." His voice was still a husky murmur, choked somewhat by his attempt to swallow down his tears at the same time. He watched their legs swinging back and forth in the air, a foot clear of the ground. The sight made him feel like a little kid again, unable to touch the floor from the dining room chair, needing someone else to help with the problem.

"It was… alien… nothing like anything I've ever heard of before. I can't possibly explain it, but…" He paused, shivering and wrapping his arms around himself, his voice getting even quieter, "it scared me." The sun was gone from the sky now, the final glow fading at an increasing rate, suiting his mood perfectly.

"It was like, being able to experience someone so completely that you feel you know everything there is to know. Yet every moment that passes still brings something new." He shivered again, Mikaela drawing him closer to her for warmth.

"But at the same time it was like I was fading away, you know? As though Sam Witwicky was disappearing and being replaced with something else." He sniffled like a child.

"I thought I was dying, but, I didn't want it to stop." He wiped a tear away, looking down at her head on his shoulder from the corner of his eye.

"You can't imagine what it feels like to know that what's happening to you will kill you, and yet feel happy about it at the same time." This time it was her that shivered at his words, a disturbed expression on her face.

"I don't know if Bumblebee meant for it to happen, or even if he knew what it was anymore than I did, but, I do know sometimes you have to understand there's a difference between what you want, and what you can't have. I think," He took a breath to steady himself, "I love B, Kaela, more strongly than anything I've ever felt for anyone ever before, but…" He didn't know how to put it into words after that. Didn't know how to tell her that what he felt was so overwhelming that life beside it seemed inconsequencial, and that more and more he realised he would die a million times over to feel what they had together again. Speech, one of the evolutionary pinnacles of mankind, suddenly seemed like such a pathetically insufficient method of communication.

"I'm scared." And he was. A terror so chilling and deep, that it seemed it might have gone so far in that it would never come out. It made the fleeting fear of parents, school, even megatron pale by comparison. He was scared of B, but more than that he was terrified of himself, knowing that there would come a point when it was all too much, and Sam Witwicky would give in.

The last of the sunlight vanished from the sky then, leaving only star filled eternity above them. The glow of the taillights painted the ground and the trees in a red glow and Mikaela wrapped both her arms around him. He didn't know whether she truly understood what he was trying to say, or even if he understood himself, but it seemed that Bumblebee was going to be a while, and that meant his answers would be a while also.

"We'll fix it Sam. I promise." He nodded against her hair, eyes going back to search out the spot his partner had disappeared. Night had thrown everything into a different perspective however, and though he looked and looked, the location wouldn't come to him.

Sitting there under the billions of stars, on the cold metal tailgate and feeling the slight chill of the wind against his skin, he couldn't imagine ever being more alone.

_Fin_

_Ok, I know most people were keen to get to Optimus and maybe some explanations (assuming Optimus has any to give ;)_

_But I wanted a little me time for Sam._


	4. Chapter 4

**Combustion**

_Well I just have to say an amazing WOW to all the people who submitted a review. It was amazing to get so many of them. Evidently chapter 2 was a success despite my doubts, and chapter 3, well I just have to say a BIG thank you to DANIA who gave a critique worthy of a Movie of the Week review :) It was amazingly appreciated!_

_Of course I don't expect a huge review :) it was just a nice surprise!_

_I also just wanted to put in a little note warning that my reference for Transformers is relatively thin… My memories of the cartoon are faded to say the least (I mean come on I was practically a baby!) and the movie doesn't really delve much into the background :) Just be forewarned!_

_Thanks also to the people who commented positively on the way I did Mikaela. I'm not one of these people who thinks that in order to make a slash pairing more realistic you need to turn the canon characters into total bastards. I think if the clues are there already you just need to run with it._

_Also, I am NOT a Sam x Bumblebee x Mikaela fan… though I've occasionally read a nice piece, so this will not end up being that pairing/ménage a trois :)_

_Also – be forewarned – this is a LOOOONG chapter… I had to make it long in order to fit Optimus in… cos I know people were getting antsy when I didn't put him in the last one. I'd be receiving hate mail if I hadn't kept going until I fit him in this chapter:)_

_Anyway, the bug bit, I have to scratch._

**Chapter 4**

To a human, Bumblebee knew he had travelled a great distance after leaving Sam at the lookout, definitely far enough to long have left the boy's range of sight. In autobot terms however, he hadn't gone far at all. He couldn't. Since they had first met, he had never voluntarily let Sam out of his sensor range, and he had no intention of starting now. He needed a break though, time to think and then speak to Prime away from the human's influence. That didn't mean he would ever forsake his responsibilities or commitment however, and even though he was trying to get a little bit of space between them almost every scanner he had was tuned back towards the clifftop. They were powered up to the highest level they could sustain across the distance, enabling him to even detect the motion of the dust stirred by Sam's breath. Unfortunately his cellular scanners were no good at that range, preventing him from searching for airborne, viral and bacterial threats, though his risk assessment had determined that threat was unlikely to occur in his brief absence. He felt a slight discomfort however, at going even as far as he had. So as he crested the ridgeline he halted, where the elevation enabled his optics to pick out Sam in the distance, without needing to rely solely on the scanners. He calculated his position again, double and triple checking, before concluding that he could be beside his human in only 3.6 seconds if needed. For a machine who normally calculated reaction time in the milliseconds however, it didn't stop it feeling like an enormous margin for error. So he sent out his call to Optimus, hoping the Autobot leader would not be long, and then settled down to wait, watching Sam pace back and forth in the distance, and wishing he was there.

He didn't really have a choice at the moment, he needed the clarity he couldn't get when they were both together. Being around Sam consumed an enormous amount of his processing capability, every single bit of data relating to him analysed and stored in case it was ever needed. The boy practically consumed every 'sense' he had at his disposal, from the sound of the blood rushing through his veins, to the scent that seemed to fill the air. It had been the realisation of that fact, of the sheer amount of computational power he had set aside simply to ensure Sam's wellbeing, which had confirmed for his logic processors what his spark had already known. He was rapidly developing an obsession with his human ward, and evidently had been for some time.

The idea had been mildly repulsive at first, Sam was a human, an organic, and after millennia fighting a war between cybertronians it had been easy to allow the data concerning non-robotic life forms to deteriorate. He had forgotten the mess, the smell and the noise that was required for the sustenance of a flesh and blood creature. A computer could strain until its circuits fried, and all you would hear would be the minor electrical background hum. And right up until it was destroyed and released a cloud of acrid smoke, there would be absolutely no smell. Here it seemed everything released a sound and a scent that, while probably background noise for the planet's inhabitants, was an assault on his unprepared sensors.

Oh he didn't feel any particular hatred, as the Decepticons did, but the idea of becoming attached to something so fleeting, so messy, and so fragile, had been… unappealing. He had staunchly refused to acknowledge it, and had he been just any robot, he probably would have either erased or ignored the data as simply an errant line of code. But he was not an ordinary robot, he was a sentient one, and at their core, Decepticon and Autobot alike, rested their spark. The life gifted to them by the allspark, that had given them the power to go from merely robots, into an empire. That had made them capable of emotions such as love and friendship, and also given to them the concept of hatred and deceit.

It seemed a bitter pill to swallow, that the cause of this ancient war and destruction of their planet now wouldn't let him forget something as simple as a brief interest in an organic being. Like a human heart, its previously constant energy fluctuated and beat within him every time Sam was close, every time they touched, every time they spoke. His probability calculators had spent almost every hour of every day running over scenario after scenario, until he'd practically forgotten what it had been like to not have it playing out in his head.

It had been obvious then, exactly what was happening to him. It had been obvious when he stopped using enhanced scans and filters to observe Sam, and started looking at him through the same limited optic range as humans. It had been obvious when he'd noticed things about his human that he had previously considered flaws, slowly turned into endearing quirks. It had been even more obvious when he started downloading and comparing vast amounts of data on human physiology and appearance, so he would have a frame of reference for why Mikaela called Sam 'cute'. Nevertheless he had fought it, denied it, tried desperately not to think about it. He was an Autobot, Sam was a human, and Sam had a girlfriend. That was how things were.

Or at least it had been, until Sam had gone and changed.

His human didn't seem aware of it to begin with. Unlike himself, he knew organic minds did not have access to the raw data that would allow them to accurately diagnose what was happening. They had to rely on intuition and emotional sophistication to determine exactly what a particular feeling or sensation meant. But regardless of whether he was conscious of it or not, the changes had definitely been there. Subtle at the outset certainly, but for a being who observed every single detail, they stood out like headlights on a country road. A slight touch to his dash or hood that wasn't strictly necessary, the way his fingers would gently stroke whatever part of Bumblebee they were touching, seemingly without thought, a noticeable quickening of the pulse every time they were together, and the change to his pheromone scent that was similar and yet different to around Mikaela.

They had all gnawed away at his conviction, sending his carefully ordered calculations into a whirlpool of hope and despair. He had likened it to the human expression 'death by a thousand cuts', each one by itself having little to no effect, but leading to disaster when added together. The probability sequences that ran without pause in his memory gradually began to contain less and less choices that lead to him _not_ wanting to merge with Sam, each computational cycle sounding like a death knell through his databanks, until there was nothing left for him to do. He knew it was wrong, knew it was a mistake, and knew the actual physicality's of it were impossible, but in spite of that knowledge, his conviction had started to slip.

As Sam's had toward him, it began to show itself first in unnoticeable little ways. He began letting Sam do more driving, craving the touch of his hands on the wheel. He developed a dangerous habit of seeking out and driving through dirt and water, in an attempt to convince Sam to wash him. And then out of the blue, offered to teach Sam more about engines, where it was just the two of them, alone in the garage. He didn't think his charge consciously noticed the way they gradually spent more and more time together, or the way he started changing his plans to suit something Bumblebee had suggested. His databanks had promptly labelled his behaviour as 'flirting', and Sam had responded with an eagerness that didn't quite marry up to his relationship with Mikaela. It had driven him to distraction as his spark became increasingly fixated, until eventually the girl had noticed.

Bumblebee didn't consider himself a bot with many hang-ups, but as time went on he began to become aware that when it came to the young human, he was more than a little possessive. So when Sam had turned down Mikaela for about the third time in a row one weekend, he had already been scanning her like a scientist looking down a microscope. He had seen the flush of blood through her body, the increased flow of adrenaline, the constricting of her pupils. He had worried, because he knew it would be so easy for her to ruin everything he had. Had she deliberately pointed out all the little nuances and gestures the two of them made to each other every day, Sam more than likely would have suffered injury, of the kind not easily repaired in organics.

He hadn't been ready then, still high on the victory over Megatron and the glorious feeling of winning the girl and finally feeling like he was fitting in; he wouldn't have been able to handle the revelation of what was starting to develop between them. It was something that would make him a social outcast again, maybe even more so judging by what the autobots increasingly learnt regarding human morality and ethics. In fact even Bumblebee wasn't fully ready. So as her vital signs went from calm to aggressive, his processors had kicked into high gear, desperately trying to calculate a way to avoid the damage Sam was about to suffer. He considered it a sign of exactly how far gone he was by then, that as no immediate option presented itself, possibility 2,557,109,276 had included her death.

As was becoming an increasingly obvious trait amongst the humans he was getting to know however, he watched as, with a deep breath, her heart rate slowed down, her muscles relaxed, and she somehow managed to see the bigger picture than just herself. He would have sighed then, if he had been able to, but had to settle for sinking back down onto his springs instead. He had seen the smile she shot at him, obviously sensing the tension leave him, and knew that she would keep their secret for now.

That had been weeks ago, and time had changed the dynamics between the three of them. Mikaela slowly put up less resistance each time Sam couldn't spend time with her, and the interactions between the two humans began to lose their previous ardour. Make out sessions on his hood and back seat had noticeably reduced, though whether this was because Mikaela was now uncomfortable kissing Sam when she knew Bumblebee was right there was also a factor. Regardless, he was secretly grateful that things had not yet become physical between them, and that Mikaela had gracefully backed down and held off on ending it until Sam was ready to acknowledge that they were over. It had seemed everything would be ok between them.

But then there had been today. Things had gone so incredibly wrong. Bumblebee had absolutely no idea how he was going to repair what had happened between them. It had not been his intention to go so far with Sam, his human still hadn't even understood what he was feeling. The day had been so perfect though, everything so focussed about them. The exhilaration of the race, the feel of them together, they had both seemed so ready. In the thousands of years he had been active he had never before felt a moment of connection as pure as when the two of them had been out there. Sam was sinking deeper into his seat, all the tenseness flowing out of him as he relaxed. The little caresses he gave the steering wheel as they negotiated the twists and turns set Bumblebee's engine to overdrive, straining against the friction of rubber on asphalt and the gravity that bound them together.

He had simply acted without thinking then, feeling the other being within him responding like a pulse of electro magnetic energy that surged straight through him, threatening to blow out all his systems. It almost seemed as though he could touch Sam, more than as just a physical presence within his cabin. The building energy he'd sensed since they'd begun seemed to reflect back at him, the boy within him feeling it also. And so he'd attempted it. He had reached out towards his human like a starving man for food.

And tried to spark-bind as he would with another of his own race.

He had never done it before of course, but no warning bells sounded in his mind. The process could not work on an organic being, their life source deriving from a method other than the allspark, and so posed absolutely no danger to the boy inside him. The bond was essentially energy, and Sam had no spark to connect with. It should have fizzled, should have been like trying to grab a hold of water in a sieve, and that should have brought him to his senses. But it hadn't. Instead they'd both felt something, he'd known it the moment the form sitting in his drivers seat had tensed. It had almost seemed like a faint smell, as of something familiar brought by the breeze, out of sight, but still most definitely there.

The pull had caught him, though his logic processors failed to provide an explanation for its presence. Still there it had been; the energy and brilliance of a spark, hidden somehow, but calling out as brightly and eagerly as his own. So he had reached for it, clawed toward it, searching wildly like a human in a dark room, with a desperation born of the knowledge that his wildest probability assessment was now playing out in the real world. He had heedlessly pushed ahead, smashing and removing anything that stood in the way. His spark drove him onwards, feeling the imperative to join with another that called to it, disregarding any thought of danger either to himself or to Sam.

He hadn't noticed as his interior heated up, and he strained past the point his earth vehicle form was designed to take. Didn't realise as he unconsciously created a series of pheromones specifically designed from the billions of scans he'd performed on Sam. Failed to comprehend as he vented those pheromones into the cabin. He was solely focussed on joining with that spark, a spark that called to him as no other ever had. He could feel barriers being forced aside as his spark energy pierced the gap between them, arcing like lightning as it travelled through his car form body and into his human inside. It had seemed to take an eternity to get there, but then he was through and he could feel it, a spark that seemed to sear him with its brightness. A brightness that after this would shine for him alone. Sam would be _his_. No one would ever be able to separate them again.

He had been incapable of other thought then, knowing that they were so close. He'd felt both of their energies peaking, felt the joining only seconds away, felt a euphoria that he'd never thought to feel after their world was destroyed and the allspark lost. But something tickled one of his sensors, disturbing the perfect coruscation of energy flowing between them. A tear moistened the leather upholstery of the seat, a wet droplet of fluid that shouldn't have been there. His internal sensors flickered and refocussed on his driver, setting off a million warnings inside his core. He could see the straining of muscles unable to move, could sense the lack of air moving past loose lips, felt the heart that sustained Sam stutter and begin to die.

And he had panicked. A frenzy that surpassed anything he'd ever felt on the battlefield. Processors and systems had screamed into overload or shut off wildly as he violated the very person he had sworn to protect. His tyres had left the road, slipping and skidding through gravel on the shortest path towards the pit area, feeling control slip through his grasp and desperately calculating a course of action that resulted in the least injury for Sam. The only experience he could liken it to had been a 'nightmare', something he had witnessed in Sam enough to realise how terrifying they could be.

And now they were afraid of each other, he sitting alone on the top of a hill, Sam down below, talking in depth to Mikaela.

A warning had appeared from his proximity sensors then, a movement that was not related to the nature around him, and it had swiftly been identified as the approaching form of Optimus. He'd managed to get incredibly close; a feat that was no doubt due to the fact that he was running his own area scans at low power so he could focus on Sam. The other bot halted beside him, no doubt his own scans telling him exactly what had Bumblebee so distracted.

"You needed to talk to me Bumblebee?" As they were alone his leader had spoken in their native language, rather than the one adopted while conversing with humans. It was a small thing, but it served once again to highlight the vast difference between them and the two small figures far below.

"There was… a problem." He didn't know exactly how to go about explaining after that, taking the reprieve offered as Prime sat down beside him on the ridgeline, the whirring and clicking of parts disturbing the stillness.

"With Sam." It was not a question, so Bumblebee did not answer, listening as the far older bot let out what could only be described as a human sigh. Evidently they were all being affected by their time on this planet.

"Perhaps it was a mistake. Leaving you assigned as his protector." There was no malice or disappointment in the tone, only the contemplative depth of a leader doubting his own past actions. Looking far back into their history together, he didn't remember the much older bot ever being so filled with uncertainty as he had been since the quest for the allspark had begun. But then it had changed all of them to some degree, forced them to do things and make decisions they would not normally have accepted.

"No. I would have stayed anyway." And he would have, of that there was no doubt, a fact that Optimus was well aware of.

"I know my friend." He could feel Primes more powerful sensors passing over him from head to toe, their strength only surpassed by those Ratchet used for diagnosing.

"But now you have a problem." The statement was disturbingly undisturbed; a parent who already knew their child had knocked over the vase and was simply waiting for them to confess to it.

"I felt a spark inside Sam." The sentence was an interesting dichotomy of tones and sentiments, simultaneously both a question and a statement, a direct explanation and an obfuscating half truth.

"I know." Bumblebee felt rocks crumble under his hand as it clamped down on the cliff edge. After thousands of years fighting a war together, he had thought there was very little that could surprise him anymore about his leader and team mates.

"It was not meant to happen this way. We should either have left with the allspark, or I should have died to keep it from Megatron. Neither of those options came to pass however, in spite of our attempts." Bumblebee stayed silent, fearing that if he spoke it would either be in anger or despair.

"There was no choice at the end. That kind of power could not be allowed to fall into Megatron's hands. So I had to entrust it to Sam to ensure its destruction. He carried that out as any of us would have, perhaps saving his planet with the same act." Far below them Bumblebee could see the two human forms now lying down in the rear tray of the ute, his scans telling him Mikaela was falling asleep, while Sam was still wide awake beside her. His hand released the cliff edge as the anger left him, and his voice cracked when he spoke, sounding almost like his vocal processor was breaking again.

"What happened?" One of Prime's hands settled on his shoulder, the cold metal feeling foreign to his systems after so long with the warmth of human contact.

"As a final attempt to overcome his own destruction as Sam pushed the allspark into his chest, Megatron tried to activate it, to create a new body, a new spark for himself. His efforts failed, there was no machinery nearby capable of transformation, but the energy of the Spark had to go somewhere, and there was only one other being in contact at that time." He knew there was a horrifying downside coming. Prime was too hesitant, too careful of his words for it to be leading to a 'happy' ending.

"What will happen to him?" Beside him, Optimus mind whirred, his optics and sensors focussed in the same place Bumblebee's were.

"I don't know my friend. I made Ratchet aware of it and he has been working almost non-stop to find a solution." The tone of his voice conveyed the fact that Optimus did not believe such an answer existed.

"He will die then?" Another almost human sigh came from the elder's lips.

"All life eventually dies Bumblebee, it is one of the constants of the universe. But to answer your real question, yes. Ratchet believes perhaps in only a few human months." It seemed that for an instant his circuits ceased to function after that statement, a flicker of total and utter unawareness of everything, before consciousness returned. It had been the unpleasant reality that he had refused to allow himself to face when he'd first realised his attraction to the human boy. The knowledge that eventually, in what to an Autobot was barely a blink of an optic, he would grow up, grow old and then die; a harsh truth that would one day separate them for eternity. He had tried not to think of what would happen when that day came, when he was once again on his own, but this time filled with the memories and knowledge of what it had felt like, and aware that he could never have it again.

Prime's metal grip suddenly seemed like an unbearable weight, a call to reality that chilled him with the thoroughness of the cold spray of sector seven.

"You understand then, why you cannot bind with him." It seemed cruel, to point out the further reality of his situation. Like taunting your fallen opponent after already delivering the death blow. A spark could only ever bind with one other in its existence; to bind his to Sam would mean the rest of his life alone. A heavy price to pay, for at most, several months together.

"It was so strong Prime." His vocals were weak, and seemed insufficient to the task of conveying how perfect it had been.

"I doubt I could _ever_ feel a stronger resonance." The cold grip of his commander released his shoulder armour, the powerful optics turning to focus on him instead of the distant humans.

"Perhaps. But you might find someone satisfactory." And like that, there were his only two choices; an executioner offering his victim their choice of implements. What had Sam once told him? Quality or quantity, but rarely some of each. An eternity of mediocrity, or a brief flare of perfection. His calculations couldn't decide between two such different choices, there was no way to compare them. His probability assessments couldn't probe far enough into the future to possibly comprehend what losing Sam after binding would feel like, nor could they calculate an eternity substituting something else in his place.

"And what if I miss this chance, and never get another?" He turned his own optics up to the larger bot.

"The allspark is gone Prime. There will be no more Autobots, no more Decepticons. We are all that's left now, and out there," he waved an arm at the vastness of space stretched above them, "the battle continues. More and more of us will fail as time goes on, some in battle, some through accident, some by malfunction, until eventually there will be none of us left." He dropped his focus back to the ground then, pausing to watch Sam pull a blanket from the cab of Mikaela's truck and drape it over her slumbering form in the back, feeling the pulse of energy as he stared at the boy's face. His vocals were the Autobot equivalent of a murmur as he watched his human resume his earlier pacing.

"What would you choose, when it came your time to die Prime? As the last pulse of energy faded from your spark, would you rather have someone acceptable there to watch over you? To keep you company as your final power drains? Or die alone, and have your last memory be of perfection, and the person who taught it to you?" There was silence after that, not even broken by the whirring and clicking of mechanical parts, both of them just sitting there, frozen like statues. Eventually Optimus had stood up and turned away from the cliff, stopping just at the edge of the road that ran behind them.

"I will stop by the Witwicky house tomorrow and we can both explain this to Sam together." He felt a sense of relief as he nodded, grateful for the reprieve of not having to try and tell the person he cared most about that they were dying.

"And Bumblebee," he swivelled his head slightly, so he could see the red and blue bot standing there, ready to transform.

"I would choose perfection."

_Fin_

_Ok, so it was almost a double chapter – my deepest apologies both for the length and the delay in getting it to you :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Combustion**

_Thank you again to all the wonderful people who reviewed and also those who don't review but are adding me to story alerts :) I see them come up!_

_Another huge thanks to DANIA for her second absolutely fantastic review. Who needs to read the story when you can synopsize it so well :) seriously – I enjoy reading the review comments that people post as much as I enjoy reading other fics… ok well not AS much but close! I also have to compliment you on managing to work the word 'minutiae' into your review. It was a nice touch :) I have to say after I got your brief review after you typed it at 3 in the morning I was hanging out for this one and it didn't disappoint :D_

_Secondly I want to make another mention of a review – DEMARCOS. Thanks for your review also. I appreciate that the grammar and spelling are an important part of literature and that's why I use them :) Being located in Australia we are still using the King's English (you know – colour not color and so on), though your note about the spelling of focussed caught me by surprise! I ran to the dictionary and also looked it up online, thinking I was a moron, and it is apparently one of those strange words that has 2 acceptable spellings. Both focused and focussed are acceptable (hence why spell check didn't fix it either), however they're phasing out the double 's' version, so I suppose you are technically correct :) From this chapter forward I will be using only 1 S. Considering I'm not long out of school it's interesting that I was still being taught the old way :)_

_I guess our teachers need to have a more 'focused' approach to keeping up to date ;)_

_Anyway, funnin' aside, this chapter was difficult to write. I'm suffering somewhat of a split personality about which way to take the story – both ways lead to the same destination, but have radically different paths. Personally I think the chapter turned out CRAP, so I just hope people will stick with me and not abandon the story :) _

_See what you think_

**Chapter 5**

Darkness returned to the clearing as Mikaela's truck turned the corner and began it's descent down into the valley below. The only source of light was a faint blue glow that came from Bumblebee's optics, hovering far above him somewhere, casting an almost fey like pall across the ground. He unconsciously hugged himself, not sure what to do now or how to proceed from here. His autobot had returned alone, without Optimus Prime, and spoken only to ask Mikaela to leave so they could talk in private. He had silently pleaded with the girl's eyes not to abandon him. She had not been looking at him though, only staring above him at the form of the robot, as though reading his expression. She had been silent for almost a minute, but then looked back down and stated quietly that she had to get some sleep. He felt a stab of betrayal, as though everyone was in on something that no one would tell him, trying to force him into something he just wasn't ready for. And now he was stuck here, suffering from something he didn't understand, with the cause of that something looming over him.

"We have to talk Sam." Speak of the devil. There was a soft thump as Bumblebee sank to one knee behind him, one of the huge hands landing beside him in the dirt, holding the large robot up as he bent over.

"It's important." There was no force in B's voice, no pressure, only a quiet urgency that carried a hint of desperation in it. It was an unsettling sound to hear coming from his normally so ebullient partner, and that, as much as anything, made Sam not want to turn around. He really didn't want to hear any of this. There could only be one thing to talk about between them, and it was something he still didn't want to discuss. Oh he could accept that he was in love with Bumblebee, he could concede that he found B's personality attractive, and his attention and devotion equally as adorable. He could even, if he was brutally honest with himself, confess to finding both of B's forms acutely sexy. The problem wasn't that he couldn't feel those things for his guardian; the problem was that now he'd been made aware of them, he knew deep down he _shouldn't_. Didn't they understand what this would do to him?

"I told you I need time B." Unlike Bumblebee, his own voice was filled with a bitter depression that seemed to cut through the stillness around them like a knife. There was a pause, followed by a faint whirring as his companion moved. A second later he felt the touch of a large finger as it ran down his back, causing the now familiar electrical tingle that travelled straight through him. A pulse of light pushed at his thoughts and with a cry he wrenched himself away, before that brightness could draw him in. He ended up on the ground as his foot caught on a clump of grass, scrambling backwards in the dirt as the two blue glowing circles peered down at him.

"What the fuck B?" The head lowered until it was only a bare couple of feet away, the blue eyes looking like the nozzles at the rear of a turbojet engine, the glow seeming like nothing so much as intensely burning flame.

"Time is not something that humans have in abundance Sam." The urgency was stronger this time, seeming to almost emphasise the intensity of B's stare, and their proximity to each other. He couldn't help it as he got angry, feeling a rush as adrenaline pumped into his system. He pushed himself back to his feet, standing rigid before the blue gaze, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"What the fuck do you care B? You're probably older than the entirety of human civilisation. It's not like you're being asked to commit your entire life to a person. I'm sure there have been people before me, and there'll be more to come after me." There seemed to be a flash of hurt cross the alien face before him, and he heard a scrape as metallic fingers sank into the ground. Guilt smothered him and he took a small step back, some of the anger leaching out of him as his eyes fell to the ground.

"Yes, I have feelings for you B, like nothing I've ever felt before, and what we did together was, amazing." Fresh tears darkened his cheeks and his voice dropped into something more resembling resignation than anger.

"But we _can't _have a future together. Do you understand that?" He looked for some glimpse of comprehension from the autobot, but encountering nothing but that same fiery gaze. He sighed and turned away again, still speaking in the same dull, level tone.

"You live for a long time B. If this thing between us works out I'll grow up, live my life and eventually I'll die. Humans live for eighty, maybe a hundred years tops. That would probably seem like the blink of an eye to you, but for me, it would consume my entire life." He scuffed his shoe in the dirt, stirring up a small cloud of dust as he did so.

"I'd lose everything B. I mean, what sort of relationship could we hope to have?" The tears were flowing more freely now and he sniffed as he tried to wipe them away, just smearing the moisture more.

"I'd never be able to take you out to a restaurant, or introduce you at a family barbeque. I'd never be able to take a date anywhere I went, every major event in my life I'd be by myself." He looked over his shoulder, the fire in those glowing blue eyes seeming dimmer than it had been moments ago. He turned, raised a hand and gently touched the metal of B's face, feeling the connection that seemed to haunt them every time they made contact now. The throb of Bumblebee's spark was there too, calling to him like the siren's song of legend. His voice became even softer, filled with a sadness that he somehow knew he'd never get over.

"It would mean the rest of my life waking up in an empty bed, living in an empty house, the neighbourhood weirdo that everyone whispered about behind his back." He pulled his hand away, feeling the instant sense of loss as flesh parted with metal, Bumblebee shuddering, while a small whimper escaped him.

"Try to understand B, please. For you it will be an instant, a flash of memory so brief it probably won't even bare thinking about. You can start over. For me, it will mean everything." He scrubbed at his tears again, feeling a grittiness that meant he'd probably smeared some dirt there.

"I need time B. A thousand years from now, for you, it will all just seem like a brief fling, but for me it's much more serious." He thought he saw his autobot tense in front of him at his words, a spark of anger igniting in those eyes, the effect like a fighter jet soaring off a carrier. It appeared that he was going to say something to rebut his comment, but then it was gone and the head was pulling away from him.

"I understand Sam. I will wait until you're ready." The familiar sound of transformation echoed as the robot form disappeared, replaced by the yellow Camaro. The driver's door popped open, waiting for him.

"Thank you." He meant it, and the interior lighting flashed at him in understanding and acknowledgement. He eased himself into the driver's seat, feeling an almost imperceptible shake of the car around him as he did so, the electric tingle travelling across his skin. He felt tired now. Not tired as one feels when they're up till 2am, but a deep weariness that seemed to drain his body. He just wanted to sleep and forget about everything for a while.

Things were always better in the morning.

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The house was eerily silent when Sam stirred to wakefulness late on Sunday. It was more than just a normal quiet, a sort of heaviness that seemed to actively seek out and smother the sounds that were normally there. There was no noise coming from the TV downstairs, though his dad never missed the Sunday morning current affairs program. The sounds of cooking could not be heard from the kitchen either; even when he knew his mother considered Sunday morning breakfast important family time. He wondered if maybe his parents had simply gone out somewhere, but they would never have done something without letting him know, especially not since Bumblebee and the other Autobots had come into their lives.

He carefully set both feet on the carpet and lifted himself out of bed, quickly throwing a pair of jeans on over his boxers, and a shirt that he grabbed off the pile in the corner. In spite of the noise he made moving around no one called out to him or knocked on the door, in fact it wasn't until he cracked the door open that the first sound of habitation reached him. It was the clink of a teacup and saucer touching as someone set them on the table. In the silence, the sound seemed out of proportion with the small size of the objects. His mother only ever made tea when they had company, something about a chance to show off the matching tea set that sat on a shelf for the rest of the time. There should have been the sound of talking or laughing if they'd had guests however, and no such disturbance could be heard. He had a bad feeling about this that had nothing to do with the fact he'd come in very late last night, well after curfew. For a brief moment he wondered if maybe they'd found something out about him and Bumblebee, that Mikaela had run over here first thing this morning and confessed everything. From the landing the stairs stretched down before him, and he almost wanted to call out and ask if anyone was there, a legacy of late nights watching slasher flicks coming back to haunt him.

He crept down them a little tentatively, peering around the corner and into the kitchen when he reached the bottom, not wanting to disturb whatever was going on. It was clean and spotless as it always was, with everything in its precise spot, but there was no smell of cooking, no steam rising from pans or the stove. The microwave was silent and dim, the toaster clean and up on the shelf. His mother and father sat at one corner of the kitchen table, his mothers right hand grasped in his father's left, both their faces pale and nervous. A tea cup sat in front of his mother, steam rising off it creating patterns in the light that streamed in through the window, the saucer was stained pale brown, evidently by a spill. Across from them, looking over the top of the proudly displayed tea set was Captain Lennox, his face as grim as theirs were scared. None of them were looking at each other, sitting there silently, staring at the tablecloth.

"Will?" All three of them jerked at the sound of his voice, his mother's hand pulling free of his father's, slapping the delicate cup and saucer off the table, sending them to the tiled floor with a crash. The spinning and flipping pieces sprayed across the floor towards him, the brown tea seeping into the mortar cracks and flowing through them like a river. His mother didn't even look at them. She didn't scream, didn't apologise, didn't rush to grab a sponge or exclaim over the loss. That, more than anything, made his hair stand on end. B transforming in the street and not even drawing a stare would have been less strange. He looked up from the broken mess to find the three sets of eyes fixed on him, one looking ready to cry, one weary and sad, the third shaken but firm.

"What's going on?" He wished he could have sounded less terrified, especially with the Special Forces captain sitting there, but the entire scene was so surreal that he couldn't help it. His hand had a death grip on the doorframe, as though it would somehow return him to reality if he just squeezed hard enough. He felt himself start to hyperventilate a little, his heart rate increasing, as his mother let out a small cry before turning and burying her face in his father's shoulder. Will stood slowly from his seat, coming around the table to pull out a chair for him.

"You should sit down Sam, there's something you need to know." He didn't want to sit in the chair. Definitely didn't want to see whatever had upset his parents so much. But just as he hadn't been able to deny Bumblebee and his 'talk' last night, he slowly sank down, feeling the hard wood underneath him, and grabbed hold of his mother's hand when she held it out to him.

Things were meant to be better this morning.

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Seven months.

Sam was alone in the backyard, sitting on the grass and staring at the repaired landscaping, noticing that his father hadn't reminded him about staying on the path. He guessed it all seemed rather trivial to them now. His hands were wrapped around his knees, one of them letting go so he could run his palm across the green blades, surprised at the softness. His dad really worked hard to maintain the gardens, his blood sweat and tears going into creating something worthwhile, all that effort suddenly seeming far more important to Sam as he looked around. He could understand wanting to create something so pleasant to have as a reminder. All he'd ever done was laugh at it and belittle it. Now he understood. This would stay behind, this was a record; something to show that Ron Witwicky had existed. It was no wonder his dad went so mental when someone stood on them. He couldn't help wondering what record he'd leave, realising sadly that there probably wasn't much of anything really. Some faded school pictures, obviously some clothes and books, his grade three art project made of plaster. Eventually as time passed his parents would sell or dispose of most of it, maybe keeping a few of the photos or a couple of small souvenirs. And when they finally passed away and some distant aunt or cousin inherited everything, even they would probably be sold or lost.

The garden was more than that though, it would last, or at least continue on in the memories of the neighbours around them. They would remember the Witwicky's, the family who had lost their son to some horrible disease. At least he supposed he could leave that much of a legacy. Maybe one sunny day someone would look over the fence and remember the young Witwicky boy, who they'd seen last on a day like that. There were worse places to be remembered. The whole yard was bathed in beautiful warm sunlight; yet another perfect summer day. The weather report promised more to come this week and possibly even the one after that. It was a forecast that didn't suit his mood now.

At the far end of the garden he could see the last of the bulbs his mother had planted last year dying, the stalk withering away, while under the earth the plant would go back into hibernation, ready to flower again next spring.

He wouldn't see it.

His eyes flicked away at the sudden, bitter thought. He didn't know why it upset him so much; he couldn't even remember what the flowers had looked like now, just that Aunt Jude had sent them and his mother had been ecstatic when they flowered so quickly. He thought they'd been yellow, but he might have been confusing them with the ones his Aunt had sent the year before last. They were now in the other corner. He remembered running past as his mother tenderly transplanted them, his father's voice in the background yelling at him to stay on the path. Had they been orange then? He thought he remembered a burst of orange somewhere. It was amazing the things you wondered about when you realised it would be the last of everything. Summer was well underway now, most of the spring flowering around him dying or already dead, pruned back by one of his parents to keep the plants in good health. Maybe there was a photo somewhere he could look at.

Seven months.

Under normal circumstances it would have been far too long a time. If his dad had told him he had to wait seven months to get his car he would have gone rabid. If Mikaela had told him they couldn't kiss for seven months he'd have killed someone. God, when you ordered something online and had to wait 'six to eight weeks' for delivery it seemed like an eternity. But now it shrank to the infinitesimally short period of time it really was. It wouldn't just be the flowers he'd be seeing for the last time. There'd be so many things. His last Christmas, last birthday. Would he make it to Easter? That was more than seven months away. Could he hold on for that long? Seven months had been at the outside edge of Ratchet's predictions according to Will; there were simply too many variables not even the supercomputing power of an Autobot could calculate it anymore accurately. There would be no way to tell for sure until things progressed. The odds were good he'd see the first day of winter, but unlikely that he'd see the last. That was as specific as they could get.

Optimus had been waiting in the driveway when he'd come outside, Bumblebee parked in his shadow, almost trying to hide.

He'd screamed at them both in the morning sunlight, ignoring the curious faces peering at him from neighbours windows. He'd accused the larger bot of planning it and the younger one for hiding it from him. No one had said anything, nor tried to stop him as he vented, furious at his situation and furious because he'd done it to himself. He'd eventually run out of energy, reduced to sobs and tears that brought him to his knees on the hard gravel. Will and Optimus had both been vocal in their praise and sympathy, reminding him again and again that he had saved not only the Autobots and his world, but countless others as well. They had pointed out to him that his was not a death in vain as so many were. They were both soldiers. They couldn't understand. For them it was expected that you could leave one day and not come back.

He had blankly accepted their thanks and understanding, their promises to visit him frequently as it progressed and keep him updated on Ratchet's progress. The Secretary of Defence had even passed on his sincere thanks and regrets in a letter, on non-descript paper in a plain white envelope, no signature or name. Apparently there were those who were unhappy about the dissolution of Section 7, who would be most keen to get a hold of him to learn what they could. That was what Will said anyway. He wondered if the guy would come to his funeral. It was too late for Section 7 to do anything to him then. That would be one for the gossip columns.

He'd still been kneeling in the driveway when Optimus pulled out, Will with him, to return first the Captain to the airport before rejoining the other autobots nearby. He'd stayed there as his father had carefully helped his mother up off the floor and led her inside, her sobs still filling the air, and then somehow he'd ended up in the garden. Thinking of all the things he'd miss.

The colour of the flowers continued to elude him, and it bugged him more than it should. It seemed suddenly important, like if you're going to die you should at least be able to remember what your garden looked like. There seemed like so many little things that had previously just been in the way, now highlighting that he had never taken the time to really look around him. How long had Mrs Constantine had a dog? And when had her son grown so big? How long ago had the Restins down the street cut down the huge tree that kept cracking their pool? He couldn't see it towering into the sky now, the physical proof of tree forts and Peter Pan adventures lost to the ages.

Behind him B remained as his only company. Bumblebee, who had been his friend through some of the worst things he'd imagined and who was still there now.

At least now he knew what was causing this thing between them. The horror of knowing that Megatron had done this to him was only balanced by the fact that it had allowed him to get closer to his autobot than he would have ever imagined otherwise. It seemed like poetic justice that the energy the dying Decepticon had tried to create for himself, to re-energise his spark, had instead gone to the human boy killing him. Of course it was equally poetic that the boy responsible for his death would now die himself because of it. Without the physical spark crystal to regulate it, the energy would continue to run rampant through his body. And with the allspark destroyed, there would be no more crystals, even if they had somehow found a way to graft one into him and control its energy.

No, in retrospect Bumblebee's behaviour last night had told him all he needed to know. The urgency and the suddenness of his actions after his meeting with the Autobot leader explained more than words ever could. There would be no last minute solution from Ratchet, no brilliant idea. No reprieve from his sentence. Nothing in the world, no drug, no doctor or treatment could stop what was already going on inside him. Energy was coruscating along his cells and membranes, severing the critical bonds that held everything together, breaking them down.

It had been hard to listen as Optimus had told him how it would progress. It had been torture as that sympathetic, deep voice had carefully and systematically explained to him how he would die. He had heard the warnings, to watch for when fatigue and nausea would start to set in. To be aware that he would start to suffer occasional bruising or bleeding as blood vessels ruptured below the skin. To monitor his eyesight so they would know when the decay of his optic nerves had started. In the background his mother had begun sobbing, almost drowning out the facts about the headaches and dizziness, and then his father had blanched at the vomiting and black outs. Eventually they had reached the end, the irreversible memory loss, almost a dementia, which would set in and deprive him of lucidity for the final few days, as his systems began shutting down one by one, kidneys, liver… lungs, heart. His mother had sunk to the floor by then, screaming hysterically as his father crouched next to her, pressing a kiss to her head as his own tears appeared.

The seven month estimate had seemed hopelessly optimistic at that point. By the time some of the symptoms had set in he wouldn't be able to do much of anything but crawl around the house. It seemed even the short time he'd been given was shortened yet again.

He looked over at the yellow Camaro sitting patiently in the driveway. Now, above everything else, was not the time to pass up on something because it might affect his future. Now was not the time to look back and have regrets.

"B. I want to go for a drive."

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The gates to the race track they had used just the day before flew off their hinges as B's weight slammed into them, sending them soaring through the air to land a hundred feet in the distance. The pit was empty as they flew through onto the track, not even a cleaner or security guard keeping an eye on the place. The checker paint that marked the start and finish line flashed past beneath them, and then they were off. With no witnesses and no one to restrain them they flew through the first S bend as though Megatron himself was on their tail, Bumblebee's tyres squealing against the blacktop, and plumes of smoke rising behind them as they powered out of the turn. Sam gripped the wheel like a life preserver, ignoring the tingling and buzzing that filled him and focusing only on the road ahead. A grin filled his face, not quite one of joy, but not quite anticipation either. There was no hiding or suppressing between them now and he could feel the pulse of B's spark already pressed against him, cocooning him like a comforting embrace. It seemed to hold him in safety, as they traversed the course at speeds that normal cars would have flown apart at.

After a minute enjoying the feel of the race flow through him, he released the wheel to let Bumblebee take over, relaxing back into the leather to enjoy the ride. A hand ran gently over the centre console, smiling as B shuddered around him. Not even the incredible speeds they were at could cause that reaction from him, and Sam felt a sense of power at that knowledge. It was an invigorating sensation, that this incredibly powerful and extraordinary being, who could destroy a building or step on a man, could feel such pleasure at his simple touch. So what if he had fallen in love with his car, so what if they were both being reckless. He'd be dead within a few short months and no one would ever know. Except for B, and he would live forever. Maybe that was enough of a legacy to leave behind. There would always be something of Sam Witwicky to exist as long as Bumblebee remembered him. He wouldn't be forgotten.

Outside the windows the trees and grandstands flew past at a rate that turned them into blurs of colour, like an artist had wiped their hand across the world and streaked everything into a sea of shades. They were alone here in their own little pocket, away from the knowledge that he was dieing, away from the society that would probably frown on what they felt for each other. Here they were each other's world. And that was enough.

The hand that had been rubbing back and forth across B's console changed to a caress, his fingertips ghosting across the leather and metal with a very non-platonic stroke that he knew felt fantastic when he rubbed his own flesh the same way. The tachometer shot past the redline, the engine plummeting down into the bass rumble that so affected him every time. The shiver travelled straight up through his spine, setting his nerves on fire and causing him to release a moan that, to his own ears, sounded surprisingly wanton. He didn't care though, it was only B, and he wasn't going to die without just giving in and doing everything he wanted to. Why did it matter now if B knew he wanted him? What would it gain him if he held back? Who was going to find out?

He pressed himself back into the seat, removing his hand from its stroking only long enough to strip off his shirt and feel the leather against his naked skin. The engine screamed at that, shrieking wildly up and down the revs. More rumbles travelled up through the car to him and the hand that wasn't repeating its travels across B's sensitive interior gripped the headrest behind him. He threw his head back and cried out, pleasure scorching through him like lightning. The air grew thick, a sensation he remembered well and he embraced it, breathing deeply until he felt the tightness that had affected him so much, and he wanted so desperately to feel again.

With a flash the deep throb of B's spark filled his mind, the blinding light piercing through him until he could feel the brightness like a caress. Energy surged into him with a ferocity and voraciousness that threatened to devour him. It still terrified him, but now pushed him towards completion as well, feeling his sweat slick skin slide sensuously across the shuddering seat. He could feel B reaching out for him, like the feel of two magnets tugging at each other, trying to join, and he threw himself at it with a need he'd feared to accept. He felt his body strain against itself, every muscle tightening, one hand clenched achingly around the headrest, the other pressed firmly against the dash. He convulsed as another bass vibration passed through the cabin and arched against the seat, contorting within the confines of the car. He heard the squeal of tyres somewhere in the background, and felt a shudder pass through his autobot, only imagining how whorish his actions must look, his erection straining the jeans as he arched and slid across the seat, while his hands stroked everything within reach. His heart hammered at his chest like a jackhammer excited at being so free.

A spark flashed at his fingertips then, causing his eyelids to flutter uncontrollably as he moaned once again. Blue/white ribbons of energy started to spark everywhere he touched curling up from the dash into his arm, flowing over him like streams of water. More joined them from the floor and the seat until he felt himself encased in it, the light in his mind merging with the reality in front of him. They brushed up and down him, like the caress of a thousand lovers, touching every part of him and setting off his nervous system like a struck gong. Time seemed to stop then, suspended as though he was adrift in a cloud of frenzied euphoria; the pleasure threatening to drive him insane if it lasted any longer.

And then they joined.

He screamed B's name as it happened, feeling the energy that surrounded them flow through him like a wave. Ecstasy engulfed him with a power that threatened to flay his skin off the bone unless he excised it somehow. He heard the squeals of tortured metal as Bumblebee shook around him, every joint straining as his own were, until the shriek of tyres sliding across asphalt filled the air. He was vaguely aware of B calling his own name as he felt his completion nearing, the raw sexual tone of the cry causing his cock to twitch at the knowledge that he had caused it. He had no further time for thought after that though, as his eyes rolled back in his head. Like a lightning rod it seemed the energy slammed into him one more time, pushing him over the edge, and he climaxed. Warmth flooded into his pants as his mouth froze in an expression of exaltation, one hand clutching at the leather seat, while the other gripped B's gearshift. He felt the pulses as they flowed through him, each one stretching his orgasm out until it was almost painful. And then he went slack, and it was over.

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Somehow his head was resting against the window as he came down from his high, and he could see the track about a hundred feet away from where they'd stopped, tilted on a slight embankment. There was a fuzziness about his mind that seemed to blur his surroundings as well and an indefinable something was missing. A strange lethargy gripped him in its claws, numbing his muscles and senses like a plastic blanket, and though he tried to struggle against it, his energy was draining away from him with a swiftness that should have terrified but didn't.

It finally occurred to him then that he should have been breathing. Should have felt the regular in and out that defined a human existence. It was strange not to feel it and not to feel the need. Actually his body seemed to have stopped doing a few important things; he couldn't feel his heart beating either. His mind refused to pull itself together long enough to grasp exactly what that meant to him though, and he was suddenly so tired. It didn't seem as important as it should have.

"I love you Sam. I could never just find someone else." It was Bumblebee's voice coming gently into the cabin, his voice soothing and full of a warmth and caring that seemed impossible for a machine.

He wanted to respond, needed to explain to B that he hadn't meant the horrible things he'd said to him last night, and to tell him he'd just been afraid. He had to convey how much what they'd just done had meant to him, how amazing it had been, but he still couldn't manage to get a breath. It seemed like such a stupid thing to have trouble with, everyone did it, why was it all of a sudden so hard.

"Sam?" There was a slight tinge of worry to his love's voice then, a questioning tone that carried a hint of deep terror. He needed to ease that fear, but slack lips refused his commands and no air passed to give him voice. He tried again, desperately willing his lungs to work so he could pass on these important messages, and with slight success he felt them spasm, and he coughed.

Blood sprayed across the glass he was resting against, a crimson fan that almost immediately began to drip down towards the door trim. He wanted to wipe it off; to stop it from staining B's beautiful interior, but his arms were too heavy. It couldn't be that important anyway, no doubt there had been worse things smeared on B in his existence. He'd probably get chewed out for it later, but then again it seemed to be darkening and drying even as he watched. Or was that just the sun setting? Had it got that late already?

"Sam!?" His partner was beginning to sound frantic now and he really wanted to reassure him that everything would be fine. There was no need to worry so much, he had months to go yet, seven of them approximately, and it was getting dark outside. They still had plenty of time together. He could have a quick nap now and then they could go home. His dad wouldn't be that upset about breaking curfew, not with things the way they were. There was really no need for B to worry so much.

"SAM!?" This time the cry pierced his ears, filled with such fear and panic that he automatically knew that something must be wrong. Anything that got B that upset had to be dangerous. The sound seemed to lance through some of the confusion that encased him and he struggled against his body, desperately trying to get it to move, and obey him. It refused, and it felt like it was too late now. The darkness was everywhere, and he could feel the last of his strength leaving him, his struggles getting less and less.

Then the light was all gone, and he couldn't struggle anymore.

_Fin_

_God wouldn't you hate it if I ended the story there :) I won't but wouldn't you hate it._

_Yeah as I said I don't like this chapter, none of it would come together for me and I struggled with it for two days. Eventually I just had to decide this is all I can do with it and post it. If it loses me readers then so be it :)_

_Hopefully it will get better again after this._


	6. Chapter 6

**Combustion**

_Well I have to say I was overwhelmed at the response to Chapter 5… Especially considering I didn't think it was that good. Some wonderful reviews came in and I won't list them all but there were a couple of note…_

_DEMARCOS, thanks again for another great review :) it was nice to read. I especially loved the "Divided States of Embarrassment" comment :) not because of the slur but just because it made me laugh… So maybe a little because of the slur lol_

_MORGAN O'CONNOR. I like the honesty of your comment stating that the first part of the chapter didn't work and seemed 'forced'. No writer really likes to hear that :) but it does make them strive to avoid hearing it again! As I said to you I tried so many drafts of that chapter trying different things and that was the best one. I suppose you're correct though – every story has to hit one part where it doesn't gel properly. Afterall if we were all fantastic writers we'd be writing actual books :)_

_DANIA. Thank you again for another wonderful read :) If it weren't for the quotes you put in though I'd think you were discussing an actual book, not my fic. You make each chapter sound so professional – like I plan to add all the tiniest details in, rather than just getting lucky lol :)_

_A general comment to all the people too, who are asking whether the ending will be sad or not…_

_I plead the fifth… although since I'm not an American I can't strictly claim that. Honestly though, I won't say – and that's partly because I haven't decided yet._

_I will say this though: I've read some absolutely, heart-wrenchingly, sad fics in this fandom. There are 2 that particularly stand out (and I can't for the life of me remember their names). One involved Bumblebee on a desert road, with a hologram of Sam, another was him living on and gradually forgetting everything about Sam except the feel of his hands._

_Seriously I wept at that one! My boyfriend had to hug me! (incidentally he thought it was cute that I could get that upset about a story. Don't you hate people who can't invest in the written word?)_

_I mean let's face it the pairing lends itself to that sort of story, an eternal robot, a biological human? Unless you mess with it (and kudos to Morgan for writing a story that does!) then you're inevitably going to have to deal with Sam's death at some point._

_Well I'm not one of them. I love to finish a story and go "Awwww." Not, "NO! Why Sam! Whyyyyyyyy!?" So while I won't state for sure that it will be a happy ending, my own inclinations definitely lean that way :)_

**Chapter 6**

With a crunch Bumblebee felt his right mirror sheer off its mounting, the metal and plastic first thumping into the window, and then flung off into the street. The lamppost that had taken it proceeded to collect his rear right quarter a split second later, smashing in the panel and tearing the fender and a good portion of the trunk clear off. The yellow debris joined the mirror in a dance of bounces and pinwheels that continued even has he sped away, missing a large chunk of himself from the C pillar back. Only a swift thought had pulled his wheel in far enough to avoid it tearing free as well, and he quickly dropped it back to the road surface as he left the lamp behind, correcting the slide that had carried him into the pole in the first place. There were a hundred or more impact points across his body, though this was the worst so far, and there must have been a trail of his wreckage left behind him, like a series of yellow breadcrumbs, leading from the speedway to his current location.

At the impact site, thousands of tiny valves and switches automatically flicked off, isolating the injured section and attempting to prevent his precious energy fluid from leaking onto the ground. His rear window had shattered from the force and was now an opaque sheet of cracks, held together only by the internal reinforcing fibres that served the same purpose as laminate on terrestrial vehicles. It was testament to how much force he had slammed into the object with, that it had smashed the material which was stronger than most found on earth. His internal sensors dimmed from the seats, back to where his rear fender used to be, preventing him feeling the full effect of the wound. What he couldn't numb he ignored, his concentration focused solely on getting where he had to be.

He was severely damaged, he didn't need his internal diagnostic to tell him that, but he didn't dare to slow down. Ratchet had been an hour away at best, and Sam didn't have an hour to waste. If he was going to live to see his last seven months it would have to be through Bumblebee's actions. Inside him, a webbing of soft fibres and metal supports had formed, holding a sturdy but fragile seeming cocoon around his bonded, preventing the wild swerves and impacts from causing further injury. He had flooded his interior with an almost pure oxygen atmosphere, ready, in the event that Sam somehow managed to draw a breath. As he dodged around oncoming traffic a quick analysis showed him that the last one had been exactly 142.6 earth seconds prior. A search of the internet informed him that the human brain could not survive more than a few short minutes without oxygen, and the risk of brain damage increased as each of those minutes ticked away.

His engine screamed, the shriek of a machine pushed well past its limits, yet not ready to give out. Within, his spark howled along with it, the newly forming energy pathways and connections demanding that he sacrifice everything, even himself, to prevent harm coming to the one that had completed them. It was like an awakening from a long and sunless night to see the brilliance of a new day cresting the horizon. Programming and computing power was reallocating itself inside his processors and databanks as the spark energy travelled along his circuits and neural couplings. He could feel as, what a human would call, his mind, altered to conform to a new understanding of his being and his place in the world, as the protection and preservation of his bond mate surpassed all others.

His sensors, the ones that were still functioning, told him the hospital he was so recklessly directed towards was getting closer, and he increased his speed yet again. He was driven with an almost insane commitment that he hadn't felt before in his existence, prompting him to take any course open to him, regardless of the injury risk to himself. His self preservation programming had been swiftly overridden as it protested the damage he had started to incur, but it had paid off. He could see the building with the large caduceus emblazoned across it at the end of the street. Red lights and traffic laws were irrelevant to him as he'd sped through the crowded street, smashing other cars, trees, shrubs, anything that got in his way. He certainly didn't look like an expensive sports car anymore, but none of that would matter if Sam didn't make it to the building ahead as quickly as possible. Even now his probability assessment was down to less than 30, the number counting down like the clock he was monitoring at the same time, both numbers feeling like a blast from energy cannons, one climbing far too high, the other falling far too low. Energon flowed in rivulets across his metal skin, where the valves were either broken, or unable to close for risk of depriving a critical system, the sparkling drops looked every bit like a tiny glowing portion of the life that they were, as they hit the pavement behind him, vanishing as though they had never been. He wondered if this was what Sam felt when he cried, if he experienced this sensation that seemed like his soul's pain was poured out to taint his skin.

He didn't slow as he hit the hospital car park, hitting the speed bumps at full throttle, briefly leaving the ground as he did so, before emitting small puffs of smoke from his tyres as they reconnected with the earth. By the time he flew past the ambulances he'd hit 250, before slamming on his breaks at the last minute, smashing through the multi storey glass and aluminium wall that marked the entrance to the foyer of the emergency department. At the speed he was travelling even glass seemed briefly like hitting a solid brick wall, crunching in his radiator and headlights until the force smashed it into a sparkling sheet of needle sharp fragments. It fell like rain around him as he barrelled his way through, a large metal beam crashing into what was left of his front end. His detailed scans disappeared in an instant, as it carried away his sensor array. His audio receptors still picked up the screaming of humans around him as well as the collapsing of glass, metal and stone, and he could feel beneath him as the roughness of asphalt was replaced by the slick coolness of tiles. His tyres momentarily lost their grip, spinning him sideways and then carrying him into the plaster wall beside the reception desk, where, with a final groan, he firmly lodged, passenger side in.

Some of his optical scanners were still operational, at least enough so that he could see nurses and patients everywhere. Chairs and tables were strewn across the large open space, some filled with people who hadn't even had a chance to move as he ploughed in through the wall. Other humanoid forms could be made out lying on the ground, or moving amongst those who appeared dazed and injured. He didn't know if he'd accidentally killed anyone, and at that point his processor couldn't find energy to care. The only fact that mattered right at that point was that his driver's door was clear of debris, and he opened it so forcefully he almost thought the existing damage might cause it to tear loose. The stressed hinges held though, and with both pain and fear he released the webbing securing Sam safely within him. The shocks on that side deflated and sank, bringing the floor of the cabin almost level with the tiles, and when the distance seemed small enough, he carefully tilted the drivers chair towards the open door. The limp form slid out into the waiting area with an unnatural laxity that caused B's processors to stop.

His spark cried out at the sight of Sam lying sprawled across the floor, and in spite of the dangerous situation they were in his computations reminded him again of the beauty of the human before him, the shirtless torso almost glowing in the afternoon light, his olfactory sense still able to pick up the last traces of his human's arousal. He desperately didn't want to entrust his bond mate to the humans, with their comparatively primitive medical technology, but there was little he could do until Ratchet arrived. And even if they could only delay Sam's death, each minute brought the medical bot closer and closer to him.

A large sheet of the plaster ceiling fell on him from above, snapping across his roof like a twig, ending up draped over him in the manner of an over starched table cloth, blocking the majority of his video inputs except one on his lower door trim. That was sufficient to make out the shoes of what appeared to be a nurse, as they appeared over the body he'd just deposited. A hand entered his sight, pressing against the slim neck, checking for a pulse, and then screaming for a doctor and a crash cart. He watched as she began some sort of heart and breathing substitute that the web informed him was called CPR. The sight of the woman pressing her lips against his bonded seared through him like a tidal wave, washing all before it, and even though he knew it was a life saving medical procedure, he felt the urge to cause damage to her. The two of them were spark bound now, and that meant no one was allowed to touch his human but him. The urge to rip her off and smash her into the wall was surprisingly strong, resisted only because he viciously reminded himself that not only was she helping, but that it was due to him Sam was in need of help in the first place.

Two more sets of shoes appeared with a wheeled trolley between them. The hem of a white coat was visible around the ankles of one, evidently marking him as the doctor, confirmed an instant later as he crouched beside the nurse. His hand gently urged her away from Sam as the other pressed his stethoscope to the bare chest of the teen. Above the two of them he could hear the third person doing something with the cart, until an electric hum filled the air, building with a sound that universally signalled a system charging for overload. He revved and tried to get out from under the plaster blanket that smothered him so effectively, desperate to see what they were planning to do, but only two of his wheels responded to the command. The uneven momentum settled him sideways, embedding him further in the wall, causing more of the ceiling to collapse around him, thumping onto his hood and the tiles. The humans beside him bent over, shielding Sam from the debris that rained down over then. He couldn't see them after that, too much plaster and ceiling tile between them, but he heard the sudden electrical discharge of the machine, and he listened with baited breath for any sign of progress.

"Again." It was the doctor's voice, and the hum began to repeat, building towards a crescendo. It took a second to peak, and then another burst sounded. For tense microseconds after that Bumblebee thought he'd break down from the fear of not knowing, the fear of never seeing Sam again, of being too late to make a difference. Then a gasping breath rattled into the chaotic wreckage. He heard the doctor call for ventilation and a gurney, then his grief took him, and the equivalent of a sob rocked his chassis. Energy discharged throughout his entire system, causing a spontaneous overload, and then he was still. He desperately wanted to know where they were taking Sam, which direction, which room, but his scanners were gone and he couldn't follow them with sound after they turned a corner, the activity surrounding him drowning out everything else.

His chronometer informed him that it had only been a total of 6.4 minutes since the incident on the raceway, an incredible time to cover the distance, but a fact that meant that Ratchet and Prime were still barely under an hour away. And until they arrived, hopefully bringing Sam's parents, he would have no way to know how his mate was doing. His entire being told him that was an insufficient option and his spark demanded that he take action to find and be with his new mate. The energy patterns within him were still new, still raw, and they cried out for the presence of the one who had formed them, demanding the touch of the entity who would define his reality from now until he ceased to function. He attempted to free himself from the debris enshrouding him, each effort prompting seemingly more panic from the people still in the waiting room as well as serving only to bury him deeper. He seemed to have no option but to sit and wait it out, ignoring the painful energies flowing through his core, when around him he suddenly became aware of the presence of the hospital's wireless network, and the temptation was simply too much. He hacked it with almost childish ease and flicked through the records until he located what he was looking for.

The medical database was a remarkably polite system, showing no hostility at all once he cleared the firewall, and then quite politely informed him that John Doe was located in MRI. It then proceeded to helpfully direct him towards the camera in the room. He thanked the allspark for human paranoia, and their obsessive need to know everything that happened everywhere, video and audio coming to him loud and clear as he connected with the network.

Zooming the primitive surveillance device in, Bumblebee could make out the soft rise and fall of Sam's chest and shuddered in relief as that fact filtered through his systems like a soothing balm on a human burn. The nurse was gently taping small round sensor pads to the bare chest and arms, while the doctor sliced through the jeans with medical precision. B felt a moment of embarrassment and anger for his human as the now sticky wetness of his boxers was exposed to the assembled medical personnel. The moment the button on the machine was pressed however, a shrill tone filled the room and the camera's microphone, the screen on the small monitoring device promptly flashing white before blackening in a way that did not resemble its previous inactive state. The doctor swore, demanding the nurse hook up another machine, only to watch as that one also proceeded to detonate itself.

The third attempt involved a somewhat different apparatus, connecting a sensor to one finger and then another to a digit on the opposite hand. This machine correctly lit up, the lines and numbers filling the small screen, sending the doctor and nurse into a frenzy. He didn't catch most of it, their faces turned away from the camera, but evidently the energetic state of his partner's spark infused body was causing consternation amongst them. Everything was disconnected with haste filled movements that indicated human excitement and anticipation, the wheeled bed pushed out of the way, a third person joining them in order to shift his human onto the table that hung suspended like a tongue from the large round scanning device.

A cage like brace was fitted to Sam's head as the device seemed to light up, the doctor and nurse moving swiftly into a glass fronted observation booth opposite him. Bumblebee felt a surge of disquiet as his bonded slowly disappeared inside the machine, the effect unsettlingly reminiscent of some mechanical being swallowing him in slow motion, until the results of the scan hit the hospital's network. The images were not as detailed as his own scanners could provide, but it had been a long time, at least by Autobot standards, since he had scanned Sam internally. His scans at the track were already vastly different from what appeared on the human survey one painful slice at a time. The energy itself was of course invisible to such an unwieldy device, but its actions definitely were not.

It appeared the spark was doing exactly what Megatron's last conscious command had told it to do. It was stabilising the life force it had come in contact with, eliminating variables in an attempt to prevent the unanticipated changes that, to it, appeared detrimental to the life it was trying to sustain. The problem was that biological life relied on change to survive. Unlike the dying Decepticon, whose specifications never altered beyond what he requested, Sam's changed constantly as old cells perished and handed their tasks over to newer, more vital replacements, blood travelled to where it was needed, veins contracting and expanding, breathing and heart rates changing to meet demand. Not knowing how to combat this, the energy was sprouting growths throughout the entirety of his body, as it tried to compensate for every single alteration the boy went through. Spark energy had never been meant to interface with living tissue, the allspark was the font of mechanical life, biology had its roots in a more primitive beginning.

Now however, it seemed that there had been a rather spectacular explosion in his human's insides, clusters of cells and even organs growing exponentially as the current duplicated and renewed them. It didn't require a computational analysis from Ratchet to determine that their bonding had triggered it, the contact between cores acting like fuel on the fire and propelling it to new heights.

And it was killing his spark bound as surely as it would have beforehand, the growths stopping the important functions that maintained human life. His love's lungs were filled with blocked and congested pathways, as the alveoli that normally filtered the oxygen grew like tumours, probably cutting off his air during his exertions as the disconnected spark had acted to quell the increasing blood oxygen content. In his heart another ventricle had sprouted, distorting the organ into something that barely resembled its previous shape; a response, no doubt, to what appeared to be an insufficient ability to circulate the blood through his overworked organs. Numerous other systems showed evidence of the same sorts of changes, from the growth in the number of veins and arteries to the constricting of blood flow to the brain. Thankfully, for the moment, most of the changes appeared to be reversing themselves, more than likely because he was resting and his body's systems were returning to normal.

But Bumblebee could already see what Ratchet no doubt had noticed much earlier, with his knowledge of biological systems. Each change prompted a stronger response in the one after it, each action prompting another reaction. As the spark cut down on the oxygen supply to quell his blood oxygen level, he subsequently breathed faster to compensate, prompting increased heart rate and muscular exertion, which caused the spark to adapt his heart for the requirement, which meant his veins were insufficient to carry the pressure, and the calculations continued. Their bonding had simply demonstrated in minutes what would take months to occur normally, propelled by the energy of two sparks rather than just one.

It seemed either way his human was destined to die from Megatron's last attempt to cheat death, fading away as his systems were shut down to comply with the spark's original programming, or filled with unnatural growths until his own organs killed him.

Even as his spark shuddered at the increasing certainty of Sam's demise, his probability simulations were already spinning into overdrive, as the new information was processed by his systems; adding this to the knowledge of sparks and their energy to come up with ways this new understanding might be used to commute his human's death sentence. He had never calculated with the urgency and desperation with which he did now, plugging everything but the most critical systems in to assist with the analysis. Even if the attempt was ultimately a futile one, he drew at least one small piece of solace from this discovery. The fact that their bonding had at least offered Sam a choice as to how he would wish to die, forgoing the slow drawn out death already slated for him, and instead choosing to die while bonding with him another time, an overwhelming explosion of pleasure that would spell his end as easily as it almost had this time. His own core pulsed painfully within him at even the thought of his existence after that happened, long endless stretches of years watching the universe around him through now human eyes, seeing age and death where previously he had only seen an eternal expanse. Alone, until his own spark was exhausted, either by time or battle. Fanciful simulations of an afterlife passed across his processor at the same time, probably more a sign of how damaged he currently was than an actual probability assessment. He didn't bother to follow up the calculation. Even if there _was_ such a place, he doubted that human's and Autobots went to the same one.

In the scanning room, he monitored as the limp figure was lifted carefully off the scanning table and returned to the wheeled bed he'd arrived in, that bed destined for a ward somewhere at the other end of the building. He was just about to follow it, jumping from camera to camera, when a hand suddenly fastened around his rear axle.

He jumped out of the hospital systems like a gazelle he'd once witnessed on a nature program, feeling the hand move back and forth through the grease until, with a clang, a piece of metal secured itself in the hand's place. The clinking of what appeared to be a chain was accompanied by the sound of heavy boot steps crossing the waiting room, both sounds halting as a mechanical whine replaced them. A few seconds later a most indelicate jolt shook his already damaged body, causing plaster and other wreckage to slide off him and add to the pile on the floor, while more dropped from the ceiling to replace it. A second jolt followed the first, this time turning into a constant pull that began to drag him slowly backwards and out of his temporary tomb.

As sunlight reached his clearing visual sensors he made out the overall clad form of an older human male, one hand gripping a cloth as the other rested on a lever that was apparently the activation switch for the winch pulling him loose. The large truck it was attached to was proudly emblazoned with bright red lettering that announced it to be a towing service, no job too big or small. His rear end began to lift into the air as the chain retracted; his back wheels halting, suspended a foot off the ground, while more chains were bolted in place, securing him firmly to the arm rising from the flat back of the truck.

It wasn't until the large machine came to life and began to pull out from the shattered front of the building that it finally registered in his circuits what they were doing. Fire flew through his circuits as his processor screamed that they were separating him from his spark mate, and he frantically looked for a way to stop them. Heedless of the crowd of people still around, he slammed his brakes on full, locking the wheels in place. But with so much damage, and only two of them in contact with the ground their effect was minimal, barely creating a squeal as the cool tile under wheel was replaced once again by hot asphalt. He ignited then, watching people's eyes widen as his crushed and dented engine roared into the confined corners of the room. His front wheels spun pointlessly against the might of the huge behemoth attached to him, even running on the desperate knowledge that he would be abandoning his bonded, intentional or not. The further he was dragged the more his handicapped senses could take in of the sizeable hole he had torn in the glass and steel structure, but by the time he was being pulled through the parking lot he knew he couldn't allow them to take him any further. With a final surge to his front wheels, he sank a spike through each of them, burying the metal barbs a foot into the earth, feeling them pass through the concrete, before finally entering the compacted soil below.

For an instant as the cable pulled tight it seemed he would be torn in two by the forces, the air almost singing as the tension vibrated the harness like a violin string. But as the engine of the truck wheezed and shuddered with the strain, the driver appeared to notice a problem, the large vehicle stopping and the cable loosening its restraint. As the old man got out of the cab and came back to find out what the problem was, Bumblebee hastily sank another two spikes through each wheel on different angles, securing himself to the baked tar surface as firmly as could have been achieved with a welding gun. They could do whatever they liked, try everything they could think of, but he would not be moved from this spot until Optimus arrived and at least one of his fellow Autobots could stand guard over his human.

They were spark bound now; no one would ever separate them again.

He'd sworn it.

_Fin_

_Ok well this one was mainly a little B time that also did a little plot exposition preparing for the climax to come over the next 2 to 3 chapters._

_I know everyone would love hot sex or great drama in every chapter but it's just not possible people:)_


	7. Chapter 7

**Combustion**

_Wow… I'm still amazed at the number of reviews each of these chapters gets. In case you're not aware (though you should be if you read these notes) I'm in Australia, so that explains why my chapters appear at odd times. It's also great cos when I post my chapters at around midnight our time, it's actually like 16 hours earlier in the US (bout 8am on the same day), meaning that by the time I wake up in the morning for work at 8am it's 4pm the previous day for you guys (or most of you) and I've got heaps of reviews piled up to read. What a great way to start the morning._

_If I drank coffee I'd be able to give it up and get my boost from the reviews :)_

_Couple of thanks again to the usual suspects_

_DANIA, I got your short little review saying you'd review later but you'll just have to review both chapters now lol ;) if worthy of course!_

_MORGAN, as always a pleasure talking to you. As I said when I messaged you I hadn't realised you actually wrote 3 of the stories in this fandom that I really love. If you guys haven't read them do so now:) And update soon! Don't make me stop writing to force you ;) lol_

_DEMARCOS. Another good one :) thank you. And how white bread am I, that I didn't recognise an Eminem song (seriously I haven't heard a thing of his since Without Me… I guess I got over the hype of listening to the 'forbidden music'!) Thank you for the comment about my style of writing. It was always one of my biggest talents and also a flaw __:) It's great cos I can be really descriptive which enables me to take something as simple as say, someone falling off a bike, and turn it into a couple of paragraphs of imagery, but it also annoys a lot of people who find it too flowery :) like my 11__th__ grade English teacher who used to hate having to wade through my reports and creative writing assignments!_

_I also wanted to thank the following people: Empress Satori, Rikunights (no need to apologise for not writing a huge review :) it's not a requirement), Forbidden Secrets (for letting me know that one of the sad stories I referenced in the last chapter was her fic 'Sometimes'! Sorry!) Angle1 (I just have to ask – are you really pointy? Or was Angel just already taken as an ID:)_

_Ok, I'm glad people didn't find the previous chapter too boring. I tried to put some action and drama into it to spice up the plot exposition that had to occur and I'm glad everyone thought it worked out! Thanks guys, you're all fantastic! _

**Chapter 7 (Lucky 7's! Everone wins!)**

Ratchet's laser scalpel sliced cleanly through the ruined panels which were still attached to his frame, with their usual surgical precision, while behind them his replicator array began crafting their replacements. It was a familiar procedure, one repeated a thousand times after a thousand battles, now for the first time used to repair damage that was self inflicted. It was the unfamiliar silence that made the whole situation so unusual though, only the sound of the recycling beam that reduced his wreckage to component parts was audible in the dusty, abandoned warehouse they were occupying.

It had been an uncomfortable moment for everyone, that first instant when Bumblebee had seen the red and blue cab of Optimus entering the car park with the yellow emergency vehicle following behind. The third vehicle was that of the Witwicky's, the two pale faces within filling him with well deserved, though unrepentant guilt that shamed him to silence. There had been no conversation from any of the new arrivals either, Prime and Sam's parents entering the section labelled 'Day Parking' and not looked back at him again. The two older humans had headed straight into the building, carefully dodging the wreckage that still littered the main entry, passing by a group of security officers who were in the process of roping off the damaged section. Three floors up, the source of their concern was apparent, as the huge Caduceus symbol, previous affixed firmly to the building's side, now dangled loosely from its supports.

His scanners were gone until Ratchet replaced them, but he had not needed their sensors to inform him that both of his older team mates were taking in the ruined façade of the building, no doubt already calculating the speed and angle of his impact, as well as the likelihood this could be explained away to both the local authorities, and the ever watchful eye of a grateful yet suspicious government. The disappointment could almost be felt like a palpable wave rolling off Prime towards him.

He wanted to try and explain, needed both of them, but most importantly Optimus, to understand why he had acted the way he had. His message had told them of course, but his report now seemed insufficient, as though, looking back at it now, his actions were nonsensical and out of proportion to the danger. He knew Prime had never bonded, though as old as he was, he no doubt was aware of everything about it, and Ratchet had been alone for as long as he'd known him. They had been fighting the war for so long now that it seemed everyone had forgotten how to live a life that wasn't about the battle. So he knew for a fact that no one had ever bound themselves to one who wasn't as they were; someone of a different species entirely, and organic on top of that. There had been no precedent, nothing to trigger a warning in his processors. He hadn't known it would hurt his human, hadn't known this action would be necessary.

He had not said it though. He had sat there silently as Ratchet told him another tow truck would be arriving shortly to take him away, that he was to go without resisting. He hadn't said a word to them, because he was sure that even as he'd said it, they would have known it was a lie. He was in love with Sam, they were meant to be together, every computational analysis he ran told him the same thing, his spark sang at the very knowledge of it. And Sam had finally been ready to acknowledge it too. Even had they both known the binding would send the young boy to the hospital, he would have still wanted to do it anyway. Seven months was short enough, even more so to his systems than to a human, without waiting until the very end.

And so now he sat there, half humanoid form, half car, as Ratchet's repair systems went to work on him. He had been unable to complete the transformation when the tow truck had first dropped him at the dilapidated building, forced to wait in this humiliating position as his millions of parts were checked and double checked before being repaired or replaced. The ritual wasn't as soothing as it usually was. Instead, each new system activation, created in him a need to get back to the hospital and relieve their leader, to take back the duty that was now rightfully his.

"He has always looked at you as one of these organic parents views their offspring." The cybertronian words echoed up and down the expansive space, breaking the silent tension between them, dust shaking loose at the vibration of the air. Bumblebee managed to swivel his head to look at the large bot standing above him, no expression on Ratchet's face or in his actions, just the continuing repair efforts.

"He is not disappointed in you. It is more that he is saddened." The laser hit something as it travelled across the wreckage that had previously been his trunk, releasing something caught there with a snap, and allowing him to complete his change to his normal form, minus the majority of one leg and numerous other pieces. Ratchet emitted a small chuckle, yet another legacy of their lengthening time on Earth, before the fabrication unit began crafting the parts required to repair his missing limb.

"It seems I need to start keeping some of your legs in reserve." Bumblebee looked away again in embarrassment, knowing the older bot hadn't been maligning his efforts in battle, only attempting to, as the human expression went, 'lighten the mood'.

"Why have I saddened him?" His voice snapped and faded in and out, the frantic flight through the city loosening his already unreliable vocal modulator.

"Because the Bumblebee he has come to know will shortly be gone, as surely as if he had fallen in battle where I could not repair him." The fabricator finished with one of the components for his new leg and one of Ratchet's hands carefully held it in place as the laser began to work on it.

"I'm not going anywhere." A second piece emerged, ready for attachment just as the laser secured the first.

"Perhaps. But you are no longer an Autobot." Bumblebee jerked as though he'd been struck, his missing leg twitching as well, knocking the component out of the other yellow bot's hand where it hit the ground with a loud clang and rolled several feet away. Ratchet sighed as he turned to pick it up, Bumblebee sitting up straighter and meeting his eyes.

"Not an Autobot? Prime plans to remove me from the team?" There was a pause as Ratchet examined the part he had just dropped, before judging it still worthy for fitting.

"There is no plan here Bumblebee, he is offered no choice. The allspark is destroyed now; the war is entering a new phase. The stalemate that has existed for thousands of years between Optimus and Megatron is over. This will become a vicious war; battles the likes of which have not been seen since cybertron was destroyed are no doubt already occurring across the galaxy." Something was different about the older autobot as he spoke of the war and the upcoming struggle, something that, even though the concept of age was not relevant to them, reminded Bumblebee of a very world weary and aged man. One who had seen and done and experienced so much that little could impact on him anymore. One who spent so much time repairing and replacing damaged parts that he could no longer even understand his own motivation for carrying on. It was a side he had not really seen before, and made him question how truly immune even they were to time's steady flow.

"There is nothing left to win now, the allspark is no longer the prize to be plotted and schemed over. Now is the time to strike out, kill or be killed, until only one side will be left standing.", The last piece of his leg slid gently into place as the laser made a final pass, Ratchet's hands as steady and reliable today as they were a thousand years ago, as they would be the day he went offline. Hands that were already moving on to his armour plating, preparing to secure it as good as new, the fabricator already turning out the yellow tinted panels.

"You have now become an unreliable element within Optimus system Bumblebee. That is why he must remove you from the team. Not because he wishes it. He can't afford to keep you on when each mission could determine the fate of our entire civilisation." The words hurt him as the streetlamp and collision with the human hospital had not, his head turning away to hide the burn that lit up his eyes.

"He does not trust me." The shoulder plate Ratchet was working on slipped into place a little more firmly than was necessary, jolting him like a small slap on the wrist.

"He trusts you as he trusts any of us. But he cannot _rely_ on you. There is a difference." Bumblebee crossed his arms in anger, yet another human gesture he had absorbed into his database. Had they always so completely transformed themselves for each species or race they encountered?

"Why can he no longer rely on me? He knows I would always willingly be there to watch his back, as I would for all of you." The beam from the recycling unit turned its attention to a large piece of rusted machinery nearby as it ran out of the parts already stripped off him to breakdown, reforming the corroded iron and steel into the nearly impenetrable skin he required.

"Once, yes you would have. But you spark bound yourself to the boy." Bumblebee bristled at Ratchet's description of his human as 'the boy' but stayed silent under the bot's ministrations.

"The bond does not allow for second priorities, or for questions of loyalty. Your allegiance is now to it, and through it, to him, a human. And sometime in the future you will be faced with a decision, a decision that is not really a decision at all, as your choice was already made when you accepted the joining. You will do what is necessary to protect your bound, just as you did it today. Optimus cannot have a warrior on the battlefield who might abandon his post or mission if his bond mate calls. There are no spark bound serving in the ranks of either side. It is a random equation that probability assessments cannot factor in, a faulty component in a critical system." The last plate thumped into place with a sweep of the laser, his repair complete. The medic stepped back, extending a hand to help the younger one up, his repair assemblies folding away into his body.

"And like any malfunctioning part it must be discarded." Bumblebee wanted to argue with him, to demand that he take it back, that he would never in a million years wish to disappoint the Autobots. But just as he'd known it would be a lie to say he wouldn't have done exactly as he had earlier, he knew it would be a lie to say he could be any different now. His programming no longer allowed for a decision that would negatively affect his human, the ability to write that code erased forever from his system. He would have given the allspark itself to Megatron if he had threatened Sam with harm.

He _had_ changed.

Ratchet seemed to sense as he ran the probabilities through his processor, nodding when their optics met.

"You see then why you cannot stay as an active member of the team." He wasn't asking and Bumblebee didn't need to respond. He understood.

"Perhaps when Sam has shutdown you will rejoin us. We will always need good soldiers, and you will have a lot of grief to expel. I know what losing a spark mate can do." And there it was; the tiny flicker of sympathy and understanding that had been there since he had chosen Sam after the final battle, since before even he had known what was going on between them, that tiny flicker every time Ratchet had seen the two of them together.

"When?" The simplicity of the word was overshadowed by the breadth and depth of what it was asking.

"Long ago Bumblebee, long before the war, even before we became an empire and set out for other worlds." And the opportunity to ask was there.

"Will I recover?" It had gnawed at him since Optimus talk, since he had been forced to realise just how soon this binding would end. He didn't need to specify what from for the other bot, Sam's death, whether sooner or later, was a factor that went without saying. There was no response for a long time, as the two of them stood there. The sunlight was creeping lower in the sky, casting its light more from the side than above, the holes in the rusted roof throwing small shafts of light across them, particles of dust dancing in the air. Ratchet wasn't looking at him anymore, face centred in one of the glowing beams, optics focused on the burning orb that brought life to this world. His voice was substantially softer, at least for him, when he finally spoke.

"Perhaps, in one way or another, you will recover. It will take a long time, possibly millennia, and you will never be what you were. There will still never be a moment where you don't think of them, don't run some memory past your processor, some smell, some sound, some scan, and you will do almost anything to stop the pain that comes with it. Some have become soldiers, throwing themselves where the fighting is thickest, every second they spend fighting for survival, one where they cannot calculate for anything but the moment." The shaft of sunlight that bathed the larger Autobot disappeared, blocked either by a cloud or some obstruction of the building, but Bumblebee barely noticed anything but the medic.

"I've seen others who cannot handle the reality and who become little more than statues, their processors and databanks rerunning their time together over and over until they eventually shutdown, usually unwilling or unable to pull themselves from the memories." He shuddered as he said that and Bumblebee was tempted to do the same, mind filled with images of himself trapped forever in a loop, reliving the time he had with Sam over and over until his body no longer knew how to move or do anything but remember.

"And then there are those who cannot face any prospect of the universe without their bonded. Who fly into a frenzy of self destruction that makes your flight to the hospital this afternoon, look like a paint chip by comparison. Searching for anything and everything that will cause it to end, the heart of a star, the live end of a proton cannon. There is little one will not consider, when the pain of living is beyond anything you could possibly inflict on yourself." The large hand raised and closed over his shoulder as Optimus had done just last night, but this time the gesture carried more than just sympathy, it carried an understanding. An understanding that could only come from one who knew exactly what was going to happen to him.

"We began life as simple machines Bumblebee, our programming seeks permanence, a constancy in everything we do. Our systems rely on us being the same one second as we will be the next. Without that we cannot function. It is a great strength, and also a great weakness. Humans are the opposite. They seek change, upheaval, progress. They have built for themselves what was given to us by the allspark. Regardless of how this war amongst ourselves is resolved, the future already no longer belongs to us. As the last of us is lost to the cold grip of eternity, it will be the organic species like humans who we will bequeath our legacy to." There was a quiet acceptance about the older bot. As though he had questioned all of this many times already in the past and was merely repeating it for a new audience. It was an acknowledgement of one who has foreseen the death of his entire race, and rather than struggle against it, has committed himself instead to ensuring the legacy they left, was worthy of being remembered.

"And what of Sam? What is his future?" There was little hope within him that Ratchet would be able to assist him. He had seen the results of the scan at the hospital, heard Optimus admit as much last night, but he wouldn't allow himself to stop desperately searching. When the other's optics swivelled toward him and the hand released his shoulder he slumped, feeling his joints go slack and loose, processor frantically trying to deny what he knew was coming.

"I'm sorry Bumblebee. There is little that can be done. Spark energy is simply too powerful for a biological species to contain. He has the energy needed to sustain Megatron within him, he cannot survive it. Perhaps if we could create another spark we may have been able to remove the force from him, but that possibility is dead. Along with the allspark and our race." His own spark shrieked at the confirmation of his worst fear, searching every bit of data at his disposal for even a brief glimmer of a probability that led to survival. He swore he would do anything, ruled nothing out of his computations, giving the processors free reign to come up with any assessment they could produce.

But he could not calculate one.

He spun away from his companion, fist burying itself in the reinforced concrete of the building's foundation, throwing even more dust and debris into the structure interior. Ratchet crouched beside him, carefully pulling his arm free from the floor and running his repair laser over the damaged joints. Normally he would have had some chastisement for someone foolish enough to break their fist on cement, but he said nothing about it.

"Don't think about it Bumblebee. Don't think about what is coming. Don't think about how it will happen or when. Don't think about what life will be like after it. Don't think about anything but what you can do with the time you have left. That is the memory that will define you, even as everything else around you fades." The repair beam finished its work and Ratchet placed his hand upon the younger one's head, almost like a human benediction, and then he was transforming, the emergency vehicle accelerating out of the cavernous doors and into the sunlight, leaving him alone and broken on the floor.

He knew he should go back to the hospital car park, return to watching over his bonded. In fact his spark insisted on it, wanting to claim every last second together they had, even if that second had to be while Sam was unconscious and unreachable, several hundred feet away. But he paused and rewound his computations as a small percentile appeared for one of the probability assessments still running. Something Ratchet had said. Something that triggered a hope, which triggered a theory, which triggered a calculation, which resulted in success. Admittedly the number was frighteningly low, a chance no sane commander would accept, but as had just been pointed out, there was nothing he would not do to secure the safety of his bonded.

And as he reviewed the scenario, recalculating a few details to try and adjust the odds of it reaching fruition, he understood exactly why Optimus would remove him from the team. He comprehended now, everything that Ratchet had just said to him about his loyalties and where they would now lie. The truth was bitter, but also liberating, the ability to give his processors free reign, with the knowledge that there was no right and wrong in the world, only what had to be done to protect their link. The knowledge that doing that _made_ it right.

Everything he had sworn he would never do, every truth he had thought to be self evident, disappeared at the appearance of that tiny chance that offered him salvation for his bonded.

There was no hesitation as he activated his communications systems, waiting precious moments before feeling the connection.

"What is the meaning of this!?" Bumblebee didn't respond to the question, not interested in anything the other had to say that didn't concern his human.

"Shut off your vocal processor for a nano-second and listen Starscream. I have a deal that I think can help both of us."

_Fin_

_Ok, ok. How many of you saw it coming… Be honest now :) I'd like to think I'm a bit original. But then I'm sure the makers of the movie Apollo 13 thought they were being original too – COME ON PEOPLE! We know it got back. It's history:)_


	8. Chapter 8

**Combustion**

_Welcome welcome! To those of you just tuning in…_

_Ok seriously, thank you people SO much… Do you know how many reviews this fic has received…? I didn't actually look but I know I got like 20 reviews today, which means surely over 6 chapters equals over 100 :) That's so great! Thank you all._

_Now to the private thank you's._

_DANIA: Nice to get your review! I think it's your longest yet – almost a fic in itself :) and I couldn't wait to post 7 so sorry for barrelling ahead without you ;) Thanks again for managing to use the word 'minutiae', seriously – it makes my day. Oh and Kudo's on your vast and bountiful knowledge of everything from Greek myths, to Opera, to music to medicine! Reading your reviews is like a quick journey through a history book :D It's great. Also, how cool is the phrase 'Deus Ex Machina'… It sounds WAY cooler than it actually is lol – you could imagine Arnie using it as a catchphrase (insert heavy terminator accent here) – "Day-oos ex mack-in-a, scum-bag." Thank you also for your comments on my medical technology too… though it was as much luck as anything. That and medical shows lol :) Though my boyfriend is a radiographer (don't know if they're called the same thing over there, but basically the person who runs all the CT, MRI, XRAY machines) So I was able to ask a question or 2 about how they work. And then was on the receiving end of an hour long discussion about the latest technology exhibit that was on for the next-gen scanners… :) The price I pay for my creativity! I can't wait to see what you think of 7 (as of writing this you haven't had a chance yet :)_

_DEMARCOS: Thanks again. I am proudly a member of the white bread club. Did you get your members jacket? I also laughed my absolute ass off (seriously ask my boss!) when I read your comment about 'awesome super word power'. That could almost be a subtitle in some Japanese anime – "team we need to beat these people talking too loudly in the library! We must make them feel so stupid they are forced to leave. Activate awesome super word power, NOW!"_

_ANGLE1: Thanks for the explanation :) I figured it must have been something like that. But I didn't want to accuse you of making a typo in case you'd meant it :D_

_RIKUNGHTS: Thanks… I think :) though I'm not sure that the society for the protection and preservation of keyboards would agree with me. I have to confess to pounding my keyboard when I type, so I'm not actually a card carrying member :D Picture me finishing that chapter (which I LOVED typing) and wrapping up the final sentence with a David Helfgott/Shine moment at the end of playing a Rachmaninoff piece. Flourish and all lol_

_Then some general thanks… Seriously I feel bad for not thanking everyone here, but I could go on for hours and then you wouldn't get any actual story… I figured you'd rather get the chapter than a thank you note!_

_Battle Maniac Azurice – you're Australian as well? I thought I was the only one lol. Where abouts in this drought afflicted country of ours are you? Aeroferret – as long it's just your jaw and not some Boston tea :). Blackphoenixofthenight – Thank you very much! brokenheart8720 – who cares about language, throw out all the expletives you can ;)_

**Chapter 8**

"There's a 'Maggie' here to see you Secretary Keller. I told her it was too late but she insisted." The slightly aged man behind the desk nodded his head as he looked up from the paperwork he was reading over, sliding the glasses off his face and dropping them on top of the discarded file.

"Of course. Please show her in." He stood up; buttoning the dark navy suit he was wearing and stepping around the timber desk to greet the attractive blonde that entered the room. It was a pleasant enough work space, open, large, reasonably well lit, a panoramic view from the windows across the, now dark, paved and grassed plaza outside. Behind the visitor the secretary closed the white doors with a soft thunk, which made the room seem more secure than it actually was.

"Maggie, lovely to see you again. How are things for you over at the analysis section these days?" She smiled, showing perfect white teeth and followed him over to the comfortable couch and coffee table that occupied one section of the office. They both dropped onto opposite ends of the sofa as she laid a previously unnoticed yellow envelope onto the table in front of them.

"As well as can be expected. They still don't know what happened of course, so they took it rather hard when I returned with special clearance and a pardon for stealing classified data." Her voice was light, not the sound of someone stating the sorts of comments she made. He smiled and smoothed out his tie before reaching for the yellow sleeve before them

"An uncomfortable situation that was, unfortunately, unavoidable. I'm very grateful to you for agreeing to stay on and monitor things for me. It saves bringing in another person onto such a large secret." The sound of tearing paper announced his opening of the seal, a thick stack of photos sliding out into his hand, the envelope discarded into the wastepaper basket next to him.

"I understand sir. That's why I hurried to bring you these straight away, in spite of the hour. They are… troubling to say the least." He squinted at the stack for a moment before standing and walking over to the desk where he could retrieve the glasses he had left there.

"Is that…?" He pulled the photo away, as though trying to refocus on it.

"Yes sir. That, is an F-22 Raptor fighter jet above the atmosphere, about to attempt re-entry." The glasses were pulled off again as the two stared at each other.

"One of the originals?" The blonde head nodded.

"This one, I believe, was called Starscream. He disappeared after the battle." He slid the glasses back on and flipped to the next page.

"How long ago were these taken?" She stood and straightened her skirt walking over and flipping the pages to another close up shot, this one showing a flaming tail of plasma already streaming away from the jet as it dropped into the upper ionosphere.

"The RC7 dash 4 satellite took these about twenty minutes ago sir. But there's more." She held out her hand in a silent request for the pictures, flipping to about two thirds of the way through before handing them back.

"The Russian geographical satellite Alexei 9 detected this only about an hour earlier. They didn't know what it was, and frankly neither did we, but the signature wavelength and the location seemed more than mere coincidence to me." The photo showed what appeared to be a wide angle view of a section of California, a strange effect like a lens flare in the upper corner of it. Superimposed in the lower quadrant was a blue spectrographic breakdown of the signal, overlayed with another in yellow.

"Can we get a closer look?" She shook her head, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Unfortunately not. The satellite was on a large aperture terrain signal analysis. We're lucky they were still setup to measure abnormal energy output. By the time they could reconfigure it the energy signature was gone. According to computer matching with known landmarks, the appearance is only a few minutes from his location though." No name was mentioned in association with who 'he' might be, seemingly unnecessary between them.

"I see. And are we certain this 'Starscream' is definitely headed here? It's not just a coincidence?" His voice didn't sound like someone who had conviction in his own statement.

"Not a chance. We monitored him as he left the atmosphere weeks ago. He's made no attempt to return since then; seemingly happy to wait where we can't reach him. Those who are in the know, including Prime, feel he may be waiting for reinforcements. An hour after this image was taken we detected some sort of transmission and he began his return." The older man nodded in understanding.

"I see. How long?" The woman paused.

"Would you like the computer estimate sir? Or mine?" He looked at her from the top of his eyes as he stayed focussed on the paper.

"Yours thank you."

"Half an hour. One hour tops. The computer says three, but I think it's underestimating them and what they can do. We need to remember that even though it looks like a standard F-22, it most definitely isn't one." He folded the sheets back to their beginning and dropped both them and his glasses back on the desk.

"Very well. We'll need to contact them and let them know." Again, no further elaboration was made on who 'they' were, the woman only nodding.

"I've already alerted Prime. There's something else as well though sir." He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her, a somewhat sarcastic twist to the mouth.

"Why am I not surprised." She pulled a slip of socket fed printer paper from her blouse and unfolded it before handing it over. A series of codes and numbers followed by a bar graph labelled only 'X' and 'Y'.

"I'm afraid you'll need to explain Maggie." She pointed to the graph, highlighting the first two columns.

"This first column here sir, shows the transmission the Russians sent to us with the image from the Alexei survey. Like all classified data it was time stamped leaving their system and then stamped again when it entered ours. The second column shows the total difference in the time stamps compared to the duration of the transmission." His face seemed puzzled.

"But it's almost double the first one." She nodded and indicated one of the numbers higher on the page.

"Yes sir. In fact it _is_ double the first one. Exactly." Comprehension seemed to dawn on him.

"Someone intercepted it." Her face was grim as she verified his statement.

"Precisely. Someone who knew just how to get in our backdoor." His hand banged down on the desk, vibrating the glass of water that was leaving a ring in the polished finish.

"Damn it. I thought we'd got the last of them. Did they take anything else?" She cleared her throat and pointed again to the paper, this time to a small squiggle that looked like a spectrographic display from a home stereo.

"If you look at this line here, this displays the signal strength of our connection to the RC7 dash 4 satellite above us. You can see that after the image was intercepted there is a noticeable drop in our transmission bandwidth, and then again after these photos were taken as he began his descent. They piggybacked on our own satellite feed. They have copies of everything we do." Steel entered the man's voice, giving it a calmly frightening tone.

"How did that happen?" Evidently done with the piece of paper she quietly shredded it with her fingers, turning it into tiny illegible scraps of confetti.

"Evidently a tech over at transmission integrity received a call from someone claiming to be a scientist with NASA, warning that a small solar flare would hamper communications for a while. The person had the appropriate security clearances, and the technician never followed it up, even though the drop only occurred on military surveillance satellites, not commercial or public use." There was no hesitation in his voice as the man undid his jacket and went around the desk to grab a pen.

"Give me his name. I want him gone by the end of the day." The last of the paper confetti fluttered into the waste basket and she dusted her hands.

"Already done sir, and I have instituted new protocol demanding the authorisation of a superior before accepting similar information. But that doesn't solve our problem." Their eyes met over the desk and he dropped the pen again and turning to look out the windows to the dark lawn beyond.

"The remains of Section 7 are on the move."

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Sam sat quietly in the uncomfortable hospital seat that was beside his bed in the ward, staring out the window to the darkness beyond, unable to make out much past the brightly lit reflection of his face that stared back at him.

He'd looked better he supposed. Near death could do that to a person, and hospital gowns weren't exactly known for their sex appeal either. But his normal clothes were gone, apparently the jeans destroyed during the procedure that had saved him, the shirt he remembered losing long before that. As for his boxers, he'd felt his face burn as the doctor had come to talk to him, the older man not saying anything about it, but Sam unable to shake the image that he was silently being judged. He wondered what the man would think if he knew the truth, if he knew exactly what had caused him to spill himself in his pants. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

The follow up had not lasted long, the doctor choosing to wait until his parents arrived before telling him anything other than that he'd apparently crashed his car through the lobby of the hospital, injuring six people and causing several million dollars worth of property damage. It didn't seem he'd ever be able to drive again after that. He couldn't exactly blame it on the car. Not that he would have at any rate. From what the doctor had very lightly implied, he would have been dead if he'd got here any more than about thirty seconds later. He owed Bumblebee his life, though he'd already owed that before now, and had already given it too.

What was left of it.

He had given it to his autobot, as surely as if they'd made some empty vows before a vacuous priest. He could feel it inside him with an intensity that he'd previously only dreamt of in one of those childish fantasies of castles and princesses, of love that transcends everything and cannot be denied. They came from that age where love seems like a special and treasured thing, old enough to want it, but not yet old enough to realise it rarely worked. With he and B there was no confusion anymore, no doubt. There could _never_ be any doubt now. His mind and heart could no longer contemplate his life without them being together. His thoughts refused to consider the possibility that things wouldn't work out. He trusted B completely, with a total and utter certainty that banished all ambiguity before it. Had his partner told him to jump off a cliff and that he would fly, he would have done it; gladly. The thought didn't frighten him as his mind told him it should, only liberated him to know that he could so completely place his life and faith in someone else's hands. And know that it would be treated more preciously than he would have himself.

His parents had not understood when his first question had been to ask what happened to Bumblebee. They had stared blankly before looking at each other with a glance that had seemed like a silent communication between them. Eventually they had said only that the others were taking care of him, and that was how it should be. They didn't understand that it would never be that way again.

They had asked him what had happened, trying to find out what triggered the attack, but he had not been brave enough to tell them. They had sat with him, his mother holding his hand, as the doctor had shown them the results of the MRI scan he'd been subjected to while unconscious, pointing out the numerous growths, lesions and deformities where there shouldn't be any, going into gruesome detail as to how each would add to his imminent and fast approaching death. His mother had cried. Not the deep, heart wrenching sobs she had made earlier when first given the news, but the slow gentle tears of a person who has exhausted themselves emotionally, and cannot find it in themselves to try and force it. His father had been absolutely still and silent, the doctor even questioning him at one point if he had been listening.

By the time he had gone, none of them had been much in the mood for talk, so he had sat silently until his father had said the one thing he could not remain silent for.

"I think we need to separate you for a while from that… car." It had taken a minute for him to process exactly what the words meant, his brain having trouble connecting the concept of separation, with his connection to Bumblebee. He had jerked as though slapped, pulling his hand away from his mother and cradling it to his chest, feeling betrayed and deceived.

"You can't do that dad." He hadn't raised his voice or spoken in anger, but his father had stood from the seat and started pacing back and forth across the small room, his voice heating a little as he continued.

"He's a bad influence on you son. He keeps you out to all hours of the day and night, takes you to dangerous places and gets you to join in with dangerous activities. He's practically ruined what you had with that Mikaela girl, always keeping you away from her; he's destroyed any chance you two had." Sam didn't feel himself rise to the comments as he once would have, knowing that his father simply worried that he had ruined what seemed like a good thing. He could still remember how happy they'd been that he had found someone and was dating. He'd always been so awkward and unsuccessful with girls in the past. He supposed to worried parents, it had seemed perfect. But it hadn't been. It had been what he'd always thought he wanted, and like most dreams fulfilled, it turned out the gold was only gilded, revealing brass underneath. He didn't need to tell his father that though.

"He didn't ruin anything with Mikaela dad. I made all the choices that ended things between us." It wasn't strictly a lie. Bumblebee hadn't tried to make him hate her or dislike her. He may have tried to scheme a little so they could spend more time together, but it didn't change the fact that he'd probably felt that way about the bot since before that. He didn't think these things happened in an instant.

"We both decided to just go on with being friends. We weren't… compatible." He wondered if they'd get the hint, if they'd drop the subject and not raise it again. But the hint was obviously too subtle, or the result so outrageous they couldn't consider it.

"You may not see it because you weren't watching it from where I was, but believe me he sabotaged it. I'm telling you we're going to start separating you." Sam just shook his head and stared out the window.

"And I'm telling you, you can't do that dad." The older man had turned toward him and gripped the end of the bed with both hands.

"From now on he will go back to staying with the rest of his, group. You can still see him sometimes, but there'll be no more of this nonsense. We'll just have to get you a new car, something definitely not alive." He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"No. What I meant dad was that you _can't_ do that. You _can't_ make me give up B, nor can you make him leave me. Trust me when I say that." His father snorted and seemed ready to continue but his mother looked at him and he fell silent. Sam dropped his eyes to the bedspread, staring at the back of his hands, one of them pierced by a tube that slowly fed him liquids.

"Besides, it's not like it makes much of a difference now anyway." And there it was, hovering before them again like a spectre, throwing the room into silence. He supposed there wasn't really a way to move the conversation past a point like that; it kind of killed any possible comment that might have followed. Eventually they had quietly stood and opened the door, telling him only that they'd get some coffee and be back in a little while.

That had been thirty minutes ago.

He didn't know how long he'd been out, or even what time he'd been brought in, but it had got dark outside while he'd been waiting. A nurse had come in to tell him he was right to come off the drip now, then carefully removed the plastic tube and swabbed and bandaged the wound. She had been all business, in and out without a pause, so now here he found himself, watching his reflection in the window, unable to make out anything through the glass except two blue stars.

He blinked.

Two large, moving stars.

"B!?" It was said with such an amazed reverence, that he thought for a second that someone else had uttered it, but the reflection of the room contained only him, and through it, the faint form of his robot. Only the thin sheet of glass separated them from one another and he pressed his hands up against it, feeling the cold cut against his palms. Beyond them a metal hand slowly copied his gesture until with a softly audible clink the tips of large yet nimble fingers contacted the smooth surface. There may have still been half an inch of glass between them but sparks flew across the surface, like the lines of energy in a plasma lamp. Sam shivered at the sensation, feeling a new awareness that was different to how it had been before. Gone was the urgency, the overpowering need to join, the loss of control. In its place was an almost unearthly resonance that seemed to shiver through his body from head to toe, a small cry escaping him at the relief he suddenly felt. It was as though without the autobot there he was only half of a whole, and now that they were together everything would be ok. Through the glass separating them he saw the same thing in Bumblebee's optics, as though joining had somehow given him the ability to read his partner as thoroughly as B had always been able to read him.

_Bonded_

It seemed to slither into his neurons like a virus, the word more than just a collection of letters, it was a passion, a perception, and a state of being that carried more weight than any ring or ceremony. If he'd been a cat he swore he'd be purring.

He didn't want to live without this, didn't want to ever let this stop. The approaching time of his death now seemed an even bitterer ending now that he had finally found a way to obtain happiness, only to be forced to give it up. He didn't think he'd ever be able to love anyone as much as he'd somehow ended up loving his B. He blinked back tears and looked into the face only feet away from him, wanting to reach out and touch it but unable to. Then abruptly the hand dropped away from the glass, the sparks disappearing and the sense of aloneness and cold returned to him.

There was a moment in which neither moved, then he seemed to understand what his bot was about to do and stepped away from the glass. With a flash, light shot from one of the metal fingers and then slid swiftly across the glass surface. A second later the majority of the glass fell out of the window; Sam heard it smash two floors below on the hard pavement, as the cold air rushed into the heated room. He stepped forward as Bumblebee slid his hand inside, the very tips of those digits brushing deftly and carefully against his cheek and across his lips before repeating it in reverse.

"Sam." The sound of the voice that now seemed to fill his head caused him to let out a slight moan and turn his face more fully into the caress, nuzzling against the alloy fingers that he noted had been warmed to avoid causing him discomfort.

"Sam." This time the voice was slightly sharper, and the fingers were no longer moving against him. He opened his eyes and looked up to the blue optics, discerning that they were not focused on him, but rather over his shoulder. He didn't want to turn around to know what had transfixed his autobot, like a child playing peek-a-boo who thinks someone is gone because they can't see them. But he had to, turning slowly around until he could make out the form of his parents, standing just outside the open door, both of them apparently completely stunned and unmoving, a can of what appeared to be coke clutched in his mothers white knuckled grip, condensation dripping onto the floor.

"Mum… Dad…" He had no idea what else one could say in a situation like this, but he made no move to detach himself from B's hand, a fact that he noticed seemed to bring great satisfaction to the bot.

"Mr and Mrs Witwicky." The sound of Bumblebee's voice appeared to cause them more distress, and Sam was aware of how it must look to his parents. He was aware that it was made even stranger, and probably a little intimidating, to see the piercing optics and the robotic face staring over his head at them, a hand almost wrapped around his neck and shoulders. But he didn't need his parents to approve of what he and B had found together, he just hoped they would come to accept.

They stuttered like frightened school children in the doorway before eventually stepping into the room and closing the door. His father seemed the worst for wear, his hands shaking and needing to lean heavily against the bed frame for support. His mother seemed dead, her face ashen white and her eyes glazed and unfocused. He wanted to hug her, to reassure her that everything was ok, even though it wasn't. But he couldn't do it. B's grip was firm around him, a soldier reading the field of battle before allowing troops to engage, unsure of where his footing would be with two people who he barely knew, not trusting them not to hurt Sam in the process. The grip was a silent command not to leave, one he couldn't disobey.

"Sam," His father's voice was strangely strangled, like someone unable to swallow. "What exactly is going on here?" He closed his eyes and let out a breath. He didn't even know how to begin to describe it. He suspected that a human simply wasn't capable of understanding it, at least not on the correct level.

"Sam and I conducted a spark binding." Bumblebee's voice seemed to surprise his parents again, as though even with him standing right in front of them they could not really accept the concept of a sixteen foot robot that could turn into a car.

"Sam?" The way his father said it, his name carried both a request for more explanation and that the explanation not be what it sounded like.

"I'm sorry dad. I know you won't approve, and I know you'll be disappointed, but," Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he felt B's hand curl more protectively around him, the palm resting against his shoulder, fingers curving down over his chest while the thumb pressed against his back rubbed gently up and down his spine. "It just happened. It wasn't planned, I didn't set out to do this, there's just, something, with B that I've never felt with anyone else. Way beyond anything I felt for Mikaela. I didn't want to do anything about it, I refused, believe me it scared and confused me more than even you could possibly comprehend." He paused, one of his hands clenching on a metal finger.

"But, since I'm going to die anyway, can't I at least have this?" The finger stroking his back stilled at the mention of his death, the grip tightened from protective to possessive in a fraction of a second. Opposite him both his parents blanched whiter yet again.

"It's not that Sam, you know we want you to be happy, but this isn't happy. You're obviously deluding yourself into thinking this because you're afraid of dying alone. It's a robot, an alien, it's your god damn car. You can't actually fall in love with it." His father's words were angry, but more from frustration and fear than actual ill temper, a man distraught over the impending death of his son and watching the visions for his own future die with him. Sam shook his head in exasperation.

"You don't understand dad, and that's ok." And it was. He didn't feel upset about it, he knew they couldn't understand it, and for that he actually felt a small twinge of sympathy.

"I don't think it's possible for someone to understand who hasn't felt it. It's ok if you can't approve of this, I don't need your approval, but can you please at least not judge me for it?" His voice got smaller towards the end, sinking like his eyes were doing as they dropped to the tiled floor below.

"I don't want to spend my last weeks estranged." It wasn't his father's voice that answered him.

"We won't judge you sweetie, I swear." His mother's voice was broken, someone who has been so defeated by something they don't expect to recover again afterwards. She shook and gently set the soft drink down on the bedside table as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

"Please stop fighting. I don't want us torn apart over something that's so trivial given that we're about to lose our son." The last word was directed at his dad, and he felt Bumblebee's hand loosen, the threat assessment complete, silent permission given for him to go to her, and he took the three steps across the room and enfolded her in a hug. A second later he felt the warmth of his father's arms go around both of them, as he gently wiped away her tears.

"There may be an alternative." For a minute no one said anything. Sam almost thought he'd imagined Bumblebee's voice until his parents began to pull away from him.

"A way to save me?" There was a faint whirring as his head nodded up and down.

"Indeed. I came here to get you." His heart beat heavily against his chest as his arms loosened from his mother, seeing the small ray of longing cross both his parents faces.

"Will it work?" His father sounded alive again, the beginnings of his old confidence returning, the voice once again sounding like the man who had grounded him, then quietly told him that it was alright, and let him off.

"I do not know. The probability of success is quite low, but doing nothing will result in almost certain death within a matter of weeks. This at least has a chance." His mother grabbed his father's hand, both of them moving away from him a little bit as he stared up at B's glowing optics.

"Why hasn't someone else suggested this then?" It wasn't an accusation in his father's voice, nor was it disbelief, it almost seemed as though his dad was readying himself for bad news. And that was the kicker wasn't it. If it had really been a viable option then surely Ratchet or Optimus would have said something by now, even the doctor had uttered not a peep.

"Because in order for it to work would mean becoming fugitives, possibly hunted, for a very long time. Sam may never be able to come back and live a normal life." The blue stare seared him with its intensity.

"But he would _have_ a life." The air seemed to crackle with energy between them. He had no idea what Bumblebee had planned, but he knew it was bad. Astronomically so, if no one else had considered it. But he had thought only moments ago about how he would never doubt him, and he didn't doubt now. He would gladly do it if B said it could work, if there was a chance, and if B wanted him to.

The sharp unnatural ring of a cell phone shattered the momentary stillness of the room, his mother actually screaming slightly in surprise. It came from the sideboard, the phone sitting next to his father's wallet, meant to be turned off in a hospital, that precaution obviously forgotten in their grief and haste. His father slowly picked it up and pressed the button, placing it to his ear and speaking. It seemed the person on the other end only spoke for brief seconds before hanging up, and his dad looked at the plastic handset before dropping it back onto the shelf and turning back rapidly.

"We have to go. Now." He reached down to the small bag they'd brought with them, pulling out a pair of his jeans, some boxers and a t-shirt. His shoes were already at the end of his bed. His dad screwed them into a ball, not caring about creases and folding.

"Section 7 is coming here." Sam's eyes automatically lifted to Bumblebee before he realised his dad had been staring at him.

"They're after you. We need to take you to where the others of his friends are." He pointed at Bumblebee, already gathering up everything and shoving it into the now empty bag.

"No." The autobot's voice pierced their activity and the elder Witwicky's stopped and stared.

"We cannot go there. If Sam and I have any chance of saving him we cannot go back to Prime." The blue optics swivelled back and forth between Sam and his parents.

"We must take a different road." 'so say your goodbye's now' seemed to automatically add itself to the end of his sentence, the knowledge that this could be the last time he saw either his mother or father for a long time making him stumble over how to go about it. His father seemed to suffer no such problem and swiftly crushed him against his chest.

"Be careful alright? I don't know where you're going or how but promise me as soon as you have a chance to contact us you'll do it, even if it's just an email to tell us you're ok." He nodded in a daze, taking the clothes as they were pressed into his hands before his mother was gripping him even more tightly than his dad.

"Be safe. We'll be thinking of you, and remember, no matter how bad things are, or how far you go, always remember you can come home again." She squeezed him tighter, and he could feel her tears pressed against his cheek.

"Always." She pressed a kiss to his head, resting her cheek against his hair for a minute before gently pushing him away towards the window.

"And you," her finger pointed at B as he was extending his hand for Sam to step into, "you'd better not let anyone hurt so much as a hair on his head, you understand?" It seemed absurd for his mother, a crying human, to threaten a creature such as B, in the same way it had seemed ridiculous for her to block the path of Section 7 when they'd barged into the house, but B made no attempt to deny or dispute her right to request it of him.

"The only way anything will ever damage him is if I am already dead by its hand." There was an absolute seriousness to the voice that not even his parents could possibly deny having heard, and after a second his mother nodded, before grabbing her handbag and turning to the door. B gently lifted him up and out of the building before lowering him down to the ground, setting him well clear of the broken window glass before transforming. As he got into the opened drivers door, the last sound he heard was his father's yell from above.

"Just remember Sam," he looked up to see only the head and shoulders sticking out through the missing section of glass, "when you come home, make sure you stay on the path." He smiled in a kind of pained happiness at that remark, wishing he could go back to a time where that was the most he had to worry about. Beneath him he could feel the engine rev as they turned swiftly away from the car park, tearing through the almost abandoned lot at a speed well above the 5 posted on the signs. The boom gate was down across the exit, a ticket machine next to it, but Bumblebee charged straight through it without hesitation, swerving wildly into the fairly empty street beyond.

And straight into the path of a dozen black SUV's.

Unpleasant memories assaulted Sam's mind at the memory of those cars, their brief interrogation and the fear he'd felt at those people knowing about Bumblebee. The thought made him unconsciously grip the leather seat beside him, feeling their bond connecting them as he sat in only the flimsy hospital gown, felt both B's engine and his spark humming around him. It wasn't like it had been, though he had no doubt that it would take very little work to stimulate themselves to that again, but it was good, safe, comfortable, content, complete. It was a feeling of satiety that he was sure all the sex, drugs and money in the world would never have been able to give him. And as they flew between the oncoming SUV's he rubbed a hand over the leather, knowing that Bumblebee understood what he was saying. If they didn't come back from this, if they died without a chance to talk again.

_Thank you for coming back for me. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for sacrificing everything for me. _

It meant just as much to him to know that no thanks would ever be necessary.

The squeal of tyres from behind them announced that the drivers had recovered from their surprise at being expected, and were rapidly recovering. Soon the black motorcade was strung out behind them like a tail, and stuck to them just as firmly. Around them the little traffic that was still on the roads beeped and swerved wildly to get out of their way. Sam felt B jerk and slide around him as he avoided running into anything while trying to make it as difficult for the human drivers behind them to follow. In the driver's seat, the belt tightened until Sam could barely move, strapping him in with a grip even superman would have a hard time breaking. On the dash he could see the speedo and tacho steadily climbing, the speeds reaching dangerous levels for narrow city streets. The less congested freedom of the expressway was not far off however, and as they climbed the entrance to the outbound lanes the needles surged again, the multiple lanes giving B room to accelerate around traffic. Unfortunately, it also allowed the trucks behind them to manoeuvre and fan out, and with a pop Sam heard something hit the rear windscreen, followed by another, and another.

"B, they're shooting at us!" His voice was slightly panicked, not only because he feared they would be caught, but now also because he feared Bumblebee getting hurt. They may have been tough, but he had seen Decepticons injured by human weapons. B would be no different.

"I know. We do not need to escape them for long, only a few more miles." They were leaving most of town behind, heading east, inland, out into the desert. Behind them the passengers of the trucks appeared to have realised their bullets were not being very effective and seemed to have paused in their barrage. Sam wondered if they had armour piercing rounds, and if they'd be any more effective. If B was injured he wouldn't have the first clue what to do for him, and no way to get help.

The jolt came as a surprise to him, the second one throwing his head back against the headrest as he looked into the mirror. His heart was racing and everything was shaking, but he was steady enough to see one of the vehicles had rammed them in an attempt to stop them. Beside them a pitch black fender inched its way up level with his window, the taller vehicle towering over him like a black metal wall. On the other side he could see a third getting into the same position. With a crunch the car on the right smashed into the passenger door. He didn't need to see it to know the pain it had caused B, feeling a trickle of it sparkle up through the seat into him. The same was done on his side, jerking him in his seat and causing the belt to crush painfully into his ribcage.

Somewhere outside, a shockwave of sound thundered across B's skin, rattling the windows and shaking the air in Sam's chest. It sounded like a sonic boom, something crossing the sound barrier, but he doubted Bumblebee was travelling that fast.

"Yes. Almost there." He looked up ahead, seeing the long stretching span of the gorge bridge, the concrete roadway held up above the canyon floor by the delicate seeming suspension cables, balanced atop the towers at each end. He felt B accelerate a final time, pulling away from the 3 cars that had boxed him in, desperately trying to gain a lead on them. Another boom rocked the car, this time much closer and he watched as a fighter jet flashed across the span of the bridge, obviously accelerating past mach one and flying along the gorge, before performing an elegant barrel roll and loop in order to turn around and head back.

There was a thump as B's tyres hit the start of the bridge, the regular knocking sound of the bridge joints passing underneath sounding almost like a clock ticking off the seconds as they approached the far side. His eyes widened as flame lit up the night sky to the right, two small projectiles separated from the jet, the missile's rockets bathing everything in flickering reds and yellows. Sam held his breath as the towers on the other side of the gorge rose up before them, and then with a flash they were through; safely back on solid ground, and then B slammed on the brakes and squealed to a halt, the seatbelt releasing as he did so.

The line of black SUV's was halfway across the bridge behind them when the missiles slammed into it, the fireball completely engulfing the vehicles and hiding them from view. There was a metallic twang and the entire bridge vibrated like a streamer caught in the wind. It almost seemed to come alive, like a snake held down at both ends as it rippled back and forth along its length, and then finally snapped near the centre. The two huge suspension cables parted, swinging back towards the edges of the gorge, the support towers on the side they had come from gave way with them, the steel beams and girders bending and twisting like matchsticks. The noise of the collapse filled the air with a screeching moan that sounded like the wailing of a thousand lost souls, slowly fading as they peeled away from the edge of the cliff, tilting like drunken sailors before crumbling down the side. The roadway managed to defy gravity for an instant after that, the thin strip of metal and concrete like a wafer stretched across a manhole, before it too then succumbed to gravity, and sent itself and everything on it plummeting towards the river below.

Sam sat there stunned, hands tight on the seat as the implication of what had just happened hit him full in the chest. All those people dead.

"What was that B?" His voice trembled and he swore he could feel his autobot running scans on him to make sure he was ok.

"I needed to call in some help. I didn't know if I'd be able to get you out on my own." There was a roar as the jet came back again, circling over the ruined bridge, the light of the flames still painting the red cliff walls like blood.

"Starscream was prepared to assist." It all started to come together then, the slim chance, the way no one else had said anything about it, the need to leave and not go to Optimus or the other Autobots.

"You made a deal with him." There was no accusation in his tone, he wasn't capable of it. He knew if B had been dying he would have done the same thing. And he had warned him, told him they would be fugitives, possibly forever.

"I did what I had to do to save you." As he had made no accusation, B made no apology.

"I suggest you hold on tight, this could be rough." The seatbelt clamped around him again as Starscream shot over the top of them, Sam momentarily amazed at how much larger the Decepticon was compared to Bumblebee, even in his plane form. Changed to their humanoid forms he had to be at least thirty feet to the Autobot's sixteen. He flew off for a brief distance before looping around over the canyon and approaching them again. He felt Bumblebee take off, the acceleration pressing him back into his seat, almost as though he hoped to flee from the approaching jet. But as he watched he saw the sleek silver shape change slightly until he could see two hands slip out of the other bot's body, taking him a second to steady himself in flight, then he was plunging toward them. B surged ahead, picking up more speed, and with a sudden jerk and a bounce the asphalt disappeared beneath them and they were airborne.

The locks on the doors clicked on while the AC went into heating, their rate of ascent much faster than any jetliner he'd ever been on, his ears popping almost continuously. The ground was a dark blanket spread out below them, the occasional string of streetlights the only sign of habitation and he huddled down into B's seat, clutching his bundle of clothes, now his only possessions, to his chest. His voice was pitifully small in the cabin, the rush of the air outside abnormally loud without the engine and road noise he could normally hear.

"Where are we going B?" A soothing vibration began in his chair, a tingle travelling up his spine as sparks ignited where one of his hands gently touched the centre console.

"The Marianas Trench. Deepest point on your planet."

_Fin_

_Wow that's long… Really long. There won't be another one of these for a while I can tell you that, but there was nowhere to really break it up. Oh well._

_Hope you guys like._

_Assuming anyone's reading it and everyone's not off reading Harry Potter lol. And if you DARE tell me the ending god help you I will hunt you down and club you then eat your bones! I'm not one of these people who had to rush out and buy it straight away but when I get around to it I want it to be a surprise:)_


	9. Chapter 9

**Combustion**

_Ok, I beg your apology for not posting for the last day and a half, but I've been sick as a dog. I think it's Karma coming to get me…_

_See, on Sunday night a bunch of us said "let's go see the new Harry Potter movie." Off we went even though I'd been planning to spend the evening writing. Anyway I was fine at the cinemas, fine for the first half of the movie, and then BANG! By the end I was sweating, shivering, dizzy… It's Karma's revenge for being weak willed and giving in to the Harry Potter craze :P_

_Anyway… I'm on a PC without internet access at the moment (yeah I know – what's THAT about!) so I can't access email or read any of the reviews so I don't know who to thank... I have a lousy memory! I suppose I could type this intro up once I have access, but then I'd have to wait to load it :)_

_I'm sure Dania has provided a great review as always :) as Morgan would have also. Thanks guys! (if you're reading this and you're not them – they're both girls ;) I just call everyone guys lol)_

_Anyway – I'm glad people liked the addition of Starscream and how I brought him in. I was a little dubious about the action scene as I wasn't sure I could do action that well (and I'm still not) but thanks for your positive opinions :)_

**Chapter 9**

"Ms Madsen is here to see you again sir." The voice overrode the gentle scratching of a pen in the office, the final chimes of the clock on the wall announcing that it was a little after 1am in the morning. The occupant of the office had not left since the first meeting a little over three hours ago and consequently, dark rings now outlined the slightly drooped eyes, and small crescent dimples were apparent where the glasses rested on his nose. Both symptoms contrasted with the brilliantly lit, white walled interior of the room.

"Please show her in." He took off the glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose and his eyes before sliding them back on, standing up and shrugging into his coat again. The fluorescent office lights flashed off the white door as it opened, then off the blonde hair atop the person who entered.

"Maggie. I wish I could say it was good to see you again, but I assume you have bad news." The woman looked as poorly as the man, though a little blearier eyed, but both had a slight spring still in their step as they sank to the couch.

"I do, but you're not going to want to hear it." A small humourless smile crossed the man's face as he joined her on the couch, loosening his tie marginally.

"What else would be new?" He appeared to take in her dishevelled state and fatigue, before his eyes fell to a new yellow envelope clutched in her hands.

"Give it to me gently; it's been a rough night." The bulk of the seriousness left her expression and she let out a light laugh, passing over the package before indicating with a gesture if she could remove the substantial heels she was wearing. He nodded as the seal of the envelope tore, and her groan filled the office as the shoes were carefully slid under the coffee table.

"Did you manage to track them?" From the first picture in the bundle not a lot could be made out. It showed a fairly standard suburban landscape, darkened by night, but made viewable with infra-red, the picture painted with unusual bright and dark spots caused by cars, people and machinery.

"Unfortunately not." He looked over at her across the top of his glasses.

"You couldn't track a single car?" She shook her head while leaning back into the plush material.

"Knowing its size, weight, colour, passenger and point of origin… You still couldn't track it?" She smirked a little and the man relaxed, a slight twinkle appearing in his eyes.

"Ok. What happened?" She leant forwards and slid across the couch a little, pointing to the image on the front of the document.

"This is the last image our satellites caught." She met his puzzled gaze, flicking to the next page. It was blank except for a small string of numbers, followed underneath by the words 'Telemetry Lost'. The following page was the same, as was the one afterwards. She grabbed the corner and flicked it, skimming through the stack like a child's flip book, revealing nothing but white paper.

"All of them sir. Not just the one satellite, all of them. They all severed communication and stopped transmitting at exactly the same minute, down to the one hundredths of a second." The man sat silently for a moment.

"Then Section 7 managed to cover their tracks." She grabbed the stack of papers and turned back to the first image.

"Yes sir. But that doesn't mean they got what they want. We've been pouring over this one image for almost three hours trying to get everything we can from it." She pointed to a string of bright dots.

"Those are what we believe are the Section 7 operatives. They're all identical make and model of a Ford SUV." Ahead of them was another dot, this one slightly brighter.

"And that, we believe, is the Autobot Bumblebee and Sam Witwicky." The road ran straight towards the edge of the page, where it crossed a large gorge by way of suspension bridge and then left the paper's edge.

"So we have nothing else but this picture to go on? And you managed to come up with something?" The man's eyebrows were lifted towards his hairline and he dropped the pages to the coffee table and removed his glasses, holding them dangling from his right hand as it draped over the sofa's armrest.

"No sir. We got nothing from it except a direction, which may or may not have simply been an escape route of convenience. It did, however, give us a little more when we received a report from the field agents we dispatched, stating that the Joseph B. Strauss suspension bridge had been unceremoniously blown up." This time the man's greying eyebrows drew down, shading his eyes in a glower.

"Are you saying Section 7 blew up the bridge, the car and the boy?" She wiggled closer again, as though shrinking the distance between them would make it more discreet than the empty office.

"That was our first thought, but no, they didn't." She pulled a second envelope from inside her jacket and handed it over.

"These are the images captured by the field investigators before the local police arrived. It took them about forty five minutes to get down into the canyon, and then the same back up. We got them about an hour and a half ago." He glanced at the images of flaming wreckage and mangled steel.

"What am I seeing?" She leant away, crossing her legs as she poured a glass of water from the pitcher resting on the end table.

"What you're seeing is the wreckage of somewhere between six and twelve black Ford Escape light four wheel drives." The woman took a sip of water.

"Oh, and of course several sections of the bridge." She was watching him, evidently waiting for his reaction. His expression didn't disappoint.

"Are you saying that the autobot and the Witwicky boy somehow blew up the bridge and _killed_ the men in those trucks?" Disbelief was almost tangible in his voice.

"No sir. Actually I'm not." Puzzlement replaced disbelief.

"The other autobots? That slightly crazy one… what was his name? Ironhide?" Her only response was a shake of the head and the man fell silent for a brief minute.

"Starscream?" She gulped the last of the water and placed the glass carefully on the table, running the tip of a finger lightly around the rim.

"Yes sir." The man's facial expression returned to an expression just as incredulous as it had been previously.

"I thought they were at war. Why would this Decepticon decide to help the two of them out? Are you suggesting that the two sides have reconciled and formed an alliance?" The blonde hair lifted slightly as padded shoulders raised in a shrug.

"I can't comment on that sir, all I know is what the facts and the data tell me." The photos were slid back into the envelope which was dropped on the table along with the man's glasses.

"Convince me." Her eyes lit up at the challenge and she leant forward again.

"There are three things sir. One, we know a signal was sent from his location only minutes before Starscream returned, and that this was the decepticon's destination. Two, analysis of the debris shows that the impact to the bridge occurred from an elevation of approximately fifty meters." She stopped and gave him an apologetic look.

"Sorry, about a hundred and sixty five feet." He nodded and gestured for her to continue.

"Three, we know that the signal was sent before anyone was aware Section 7 was after them. He was already there when Section 7 arrived. This wasn't a last minute escape attempt or a deal to save their lives." Although it was wavering the expression on his face still looked unconvinced.

"That's all very good Maggie, but it doesn't prove they're cooperating. For all we know he could have blown them up straight after Section 7, or may have just been passing through." The smile that crossed her face looked suspiciously like a cartoon cat, eating a canary.

"Perhaps sir. But there're two other things as well. The first is that approximately twenty minutes ago, just as our satellite system was coming back up, the USS Kitty Hawk, which is on exercises with the Australian and New Zealand navies near Micronesia, reported an F-22 flying overhead without escort." The man raised a hand and scrubbed at his eyes, evidently beginning to tire of the word play.

"Well that proves very little except that if they fought, Starscream won." The smile hadn't left her face at his signs of tiredness.

"What _does _prove more than just a fight is that the fleet admiral almost didn't bother reporting it, because attached to the underside of the jet was a yellow late model sports car." That evidently perked the man's interest as he sat up with new energy.

"In fact, he _didn't_ report it initially, chalking it up to a prank or a faulty visual ID. He only sent through his transmission because about fifteen minutes later an Australian 'Collins class' submarine radioed through to him asking if he needed help with a search and rescue." Confusion marked the older man's forehead with wrinkles.

"What search and rescue?" She laughed lightly and ran a hand through her hair, sliding an elastic band off her wrist and tying the yellow strands back in a pony tail.

"That's apparently exactly what the admiral said. The sub was running on diesel engines along the surface when they saw an F-22 fly straight overhead. They thought it was part of the exercise and were preparing to submerge and hide, when the plane did a barrel roll for no reason, and then ploughed straight into the ocean at full speed." Determination crossed the man's face and he slid his glasses back on, standing up and cinching his tie.

"I'm going to state the obvious just in case you haven't already thought of it, but I assume there were no _actual_ F-22's on assignment there?" She stood as well, brushing down her coat and sliding her feet back into the discarded shoes.

"No sir. The Kitty Hawk doesn't carry F-22's. In addition to that there was absolutely no wreckage at all; it was like the plane hadn't ever crashed there. There was also nothing seen by the submarine crew to indicate the presence of anything being carried by the jet, yellow car or otherwise, which probably means this most likely wasn't an accident or error either. And you have to admit that the location is a little convenient, if you know what I mean." His eyes were grim.

"I have an inkling, but confirm it for me anyway." She pulled out two final pieces of paper still hidden in her jacket pocket and held the first one out.

"First off, you'll notice that there are a string of islands across the area, plenty of places to drop off Sam and Bumblebee. Not only that, but the 'crash' point is also only a brief distance from the Marianas Trench. Where you guys tossed Megatron." His grunt was audible in the stillness of the office, before he strode over to the door and dragged it open.

"Sorry to keep you into these wee hours of the morning Doris, but I need you to get me the Joint Chiefs and have them assembled in," He dragged out the last syllable as he looked down at his watch, "thirty minutes." The phone was already dialling in the background as he closed the door behind him.

"Mr Secretary, shouldn't someone be waking the President?" He let out a bark of a laugh.

"Oh god Maggie, are you Australian's the only people left on the planet who _don't_ realise the President's a moron?" He was sliding back into the chair behind his desk then, pushing the previously ordered papers into a rough pile off to the side.

"I'll let him know when it's all over and he can claim the credit for it. Until then let him stay where he can't mess anything up." She smiled and dropped the last piece of paper in front of him.

"Yes sir. Oh and as much as I don't want to believe it, there's one more item that points to the possible collaboration between Starscream and at least some of the Autobots." He picked up the page, looking at a thermal scan similar to the first one.

"When our satellites came back online, the Autobots were gone too."

_Fin_

_Ok. A short chapter to balance out the long one previously :) No not really. I just wanted to end it there because otherwise it would be much longer by the time I fit in another bit with a main character in it._

_Hope that's ok with you guys!_

_By the way – as a side note – while researching for this chapter I read up on naval forces and so on and needed to know about Australian submarines (as we just replaced them all a few years back)._

_Turns out that in 2003 during exercises, 2 (Australian built) Collins class diesel submarines managed to sink 2 Los Angeles class nuclear attack submarines and an Aircraft carrier…_

_Way to go RAN :)_

_Also – if you are out there checking my research – I'm aware that all our submarines are based out of Perth (ok, well I'm aware NOW), but I'm going to assume that for an exercise they'd come around to the pacific side of the country :)_


	10. Chapter 10

**Combustion**

_Ok, well Chapter 9 was a disaster due to simultaneous failures of both and so my Karma is well and truly biting me in the ass… First sick, now unable to post. You all need to think positive thoughts to disperse it LOL._

_To those couple of people who did manage to post a review – thank you very much. Thanks to Dania for sending an email through to let me know she'd read it even though she couldn't review :)_

_It was a short chapter anyway so I'm sure it probably wouldn't have got that many responses – most people would probably have held out for 10._

_I liked it though – I like the interaction I can have between Keller and Maggie – they're 2 interesting characters that don't have a lot of real time in the movie (I mean they sort of appear and disappear as plot demands – like my story lol). But they're 2 people who I could see totally staying in touch afterwards, I mean Keller is obviously a smart and talented politician and she's a great computer software/hacker/decryption expert – why on earth would a smart man just say to her "thanks – seeya!" I'd be keeping her around, even if just so that you had someone in the section who would tell you the truth rather than hold off and wait for things to fall down. Plus she already knows all about the autobots/decepticons etc._

_Also, piercing through the 4__th__ wall, it gives me a chance to write a little bit of 3__rd__ person rather than focussing specifically on one character's thoughts/feelings etc. It gives the story a bit of a wider scope._

_Anyway :) number 10!_

**Chapter 10**

The hot sun scorched the pale sand like a grill around him, heat ripples rising from it and turning the world into a wavy curtain of uncertain stability. The blue green ocean crashed and broke upon the untouched shoreline, throwing sparkling drops into the air and attempting to claw its way up the beach, each fan of white capped water trying to drag the dry land back into the liquid from whence it had come, like the talons of some sea monster trying to pull a lonely sailor into the depths below. In the distance, the horizon seemed an eternity away, unbroken, a flat blue line that blurred the line between earth and sky into an indistinct whole.

It seemed odd to be sitting on the beach with the sun not even halfway through its travels above him. The bright and tropical setting conflicted with his body, as it reminded him that only a couple of short hours ago it hadn't even been past midnight. His watch still told him that sunrise should be a few hours off. It had been late night when they left, but now it was midmorning, the vagaries of a round globe and international time playing havoc with a mind not used to travelling so far and so fast. He was tired, his brain telling him it needed to sleep, but it was too hot, and he was more than just a little uncomfortable. B had politely told him it was thirty nine degrees Celsius, or one hundred and two Fahrenheit, a temperature that would have had everyone scrambling for the air conditioning usually, and that was in the shade. Out here where he was sitting on the sand was a lot hotter. It made him wonder if it was how a chicken felt as it was slowly being grilled. He'd been sitting there for about thirty minutes, he was sure his flesh must be about ready to sizzle. His shirt was stuck to him with a film of sweat, clinging to him like lycra, while the sand adhered to it just as fiercely.

Behind him the beach extended for another sixty feet of shimmering whiteness, smooth and unbroken, like it had been gently laid by some giant's hand. Beyond that it hit the tree line, the perfect flatness rudely interrupted by the abrupt and sudden appearance of the twisted trunks of some tropical plants, the sand slowly becoming soil the further on it went until eventually again returning to the beach and finally, the ocean. The island was utterly unremarkable. It was uninhabited, at least that was what B had told him as they'd hit the beach after dropping the last ten feet from the bottom of the jet. He didn't think he'd ever been wrapped up in so many belts and braces in his life. He was sure the impact had been hard, but he had barely felt a bump, less than a plane touching down on the tarmac. The gouge B had dug in the sand with his front spoiler could still be seen a ways down the beach, the damp sand thrown to the surface, already almost dried in the suffocating heat.

Most would have said it was a tropical paradise, almost untouched by man, no one around for possibly hundreds of miles. But the only feeling it stirred in Sam was uncertainty. He and B had not spoken for the three or so hours they'd been in the air, the Decepticon streaking across the sky faster than any human jet could have managed. It had been uncomfortable, the knowledge of what had just happened, what they had done. They had fled the country, contacted a known criminal and someone who meant death for humanity, betrayed the autobots, and abandoned his family. It was a chilling vision. What was more, he couldn't take it back, and wouldn't have, even if he'd been able to. He didn't necessarily agree with the course, but B had chosen it for them and he was determined to walk it together.

He didn't think their bond would let him do otherwise.

Shadow fell across him, making him blink as his eyes adjusted to sudden shade, taking in the outline as it stretched towards the surf before him.

"B." His voice sounded as heavy as the moisture filled air around him, the weight of his thoughts pulling it down as the heat pulled at his shoulders.

"Sam. Are you… ok? You have not moved since you sat down here, and my scanners indicate that the ultraviolet radiation levels are high enough to be dangerous for humans to remain in." The simulated voice was hesitant, the sound of whirring that marked B's movement announcing as the bot lowered himself to the sand beside him, kneeling on one knee. In the back of his mind the thought that he should be angry, should be upset at what had happened simmered, but he could not act on it. He felt no anger towards his autobot at all, as though the ability to feel that had been sapped out of him, leaving him able only to love and adore. The bond that was still new between them sang at their proximity, wiping any thought of resistance from his mind. But he was still able to feel the sadness.

"I'll be ok. I just want to stay out here a while longer. It's peaceful." He dropped a sweaty hand to the sand, picking it up and sifting it slowly through his fingers, leaving a grainy coating behind as it adhered to his skin.

"I don't want to think too much right now." There was no response from his companion, but he could feel Bumblebee's understanding and acceptance like a living thing inside him, the sense of compassion and comprehension so deep that it seemed his bot could now read him as easily as he could read the UV levels he'd spoken of. A gentle metallic finger carefully lifted and caressed his back, gently running up and down his spine leaving pleasurable sparks of sensation in their wake. He arched his back slightly, allowing those soft touches to move around his shoulders and up his throat, sliding refreshingly cool alloy across his flushed cheeks and lips. He let out something between a sigh and a moan of pleasure, feeling the fingertips tremble very slightly against his flesh and watching as B's optics flared with internal flame. It still amazed him that he could spark such a reaction, the energy surging between them like water behind a dam, waiting for the spillway to open.

But he couldn't let it.

With a great deal of effort, both mental and physical, he pressed his hand against the finger now resting against his chin, moving it away from him and then letting go. The growing charge that seemed to build between them slowly faded, never going completely, but slipping once again into the background. He could feel B's puzzlement as he had felt his understanding, an undercurrent of emotion that seemed to come part from his mind and part from his heart.

"It could kill me B." He didn't say it to hurt, but the sting echoed in his mind like he had slapped the large autobot, matching up with the sudden flinching movement that jerked the delicate hand away. Instinctively he saw the metal body crowd closer to him, leaning protectively above him as a defensive living shield, as though he could be protected from his own wants and desires.

"There's no hospital here. If we did… that… again, there'd be no way to get me anywhere to help me." He gently raised his hand to the centre of B's chest, brought within reach by the crouching position he had adopted and stroked along the various seams and joins of machinery beyond anything mankind had ever built. The pulse of the alien spark throbbed through his hand as he caressed the cold material, flashes of the brilliant white light passing before his eyes, beckoning him to feel it again, to give in and let them join. Like an oasis in the desert it called to him, a siren's song that promised him bliss and pleasure if he just surrendered to it, and he shuddered right along with the towering form above him.

"I want to B." His voice was thin sounding, stretched, as though pulled tight across his throat. And he did want to, more than anything, bound or not, he could still feel the emotions that drew him to his guardian.

"Just, not now. Ok?" There was a moment of silence, as though his partner was assessing whether his statement was truth or comforting rejection, before he settled back again onto the sand, still leaving him in the shade but giving him the room he required.

"I understand Sam. It is neither the time, nor the place, as you human's put it." Sam nodded without looking up, picking up another handful of sand before sifting it on top of the little pile of sand that was accumulating beside him.

"Where are we anyway?" The island had looked small from the air, little more than a dot at the end of a chain of other dots, he didn't imagine it could be more than a couple of miles long, and didn't seem to be anywhere important.

"We are on a small island called Aguijan. It is an uninhabited island at the southern end of the Mariana Island chain, approximately 100 miles north of Guam." Sam looked up at the glowing eyes above him, a small smile on his face for what felt like the first time, in forever.

"How do you know all this stuff?" B shifted position, dropping a hand into the sand beside him, far enough away not to touch, close enough that he could if he wanted to.

"I have sensors and scanners that allow me to calculate my position on any planet using the magnetic field or celestial objects as points of reference. It is accurate to within one hundredth of an inch." He stopped and peered up for a minute as Sam watched, small gears and components spinning and moving.

"Plus I am connected to google earth." He did laugh then, the sound echoing up the empty beach, the image of this enormous alien machine playing around with google earth too much to contain. Bumblebee was silent above him, letting him ride the amusement out.

It was refreshing, a chance to laugh about something and forget the seriousness of the situation. For a minute he could almost pretend that they were here on a holiday together, the two of them, alone. But that image faded as his laughter dried up, and he slipped slowly back into his silence.

"So you can really access the internet? Even from here?" His partner nodded in a human affirmative.

"It is actually somewhat comforting to me, and probably to the others as well. It is, uncomfortable, being surrounded by so much biological life." It still amazed him that there was so much he didn't know about his autobot. For starters he must have been thousands, if not hundreds of thousands or millions of years old. There was no way he could ever know everything about Bumblebee, even if he lived to be a hundred. It was a depressing thought to know that by the time of his death, whether that be a matter of days or even years, B would know _everything _there was to know about Sam Witwicky, but he would barely have scratched the surface of the complex machine above him.

"Why's that?" He slumped into the sand on his back, his hand sliding across the grains until it barely grazed the metal fingers B was resting on.

"Your planet is full of organic noise and smell, life and death, yet no matter where we go there is always a satellite, a wireless transmission, something mechanical to reassure us. It permeates your existence in a way that was unexpected to us in our experience with biological life. Our planet was an enormous hub of signals; billions upon billions calling out to each other, sending, receiving. No matter where you went you were connected to the grid. Earth feels like a simpler version of that. Even here, far from your civilisation, I am within reach of another machine. It reminds us what we have lost." Sam ran his palm across B's hand, acknowledging his statement and conveying his understanding.

"But why _are_ we here? Are we hiding? You haven't told me anything about your plan or why Starscream was helping us." Disquiet seemed to shiver through the yellow bot, and his blue optics dimmed a little.

"He is helping us because I promised him something in return." He turned away, looking up toward the trees above them.

"Let us move back into the shade Sam. You are already no doubt quite burnt from your exposure. We don't need to save you only to have you die from radiation related injuries." A whirr announced Bumblebee's movement back to a standing position, waiting for Sam to brush himself off before heading up the beach to the relative shade of the plants filling the island interior. It was a diversionary tactic, or at the very least a delaying one. Sam could feel it, whether through their bond or just through getting to know B, and he had no intention of falling for it. He waited patiently as the large robot settled himself, knees raised in front of him, resting his back against a tree, then scrambled up over the alien hip, climbing up over B's stomach until he was pressed against his chest, their faces now only inches apart. The touch and closeness sent shivers through both of them, electricity seeming to energise his nervous system until he thought he could feel every molecule of air as it brushed against his skin. He closed his eyes as the blue fires in front of him blazed to new heights, firmly ignoring the not quite pants that were somehow leaving his mouth, and his partner's own small hum.

"What is the deal B? What did you promise him?" Pressed against each other he could almost hear his autobot's thoughts as they flew through his head, the emotions coming across like colours, lightly tinting the normally white light that filled his mind. There could be no deception or evasion like this.

"Megatron." His voice came out as strangled, gasping, and Sam could feel the tensing of the form underneath him.

"We can attempt to drain the spark energy out of you and put it into Megatron." His eyes flew open, staring directly into blazing blue fire, noticing the straining of the metallic arms and the frantic clicking and spinning of parts. His spark could sense what B wanted and it desperately wanted to give it to him, give anything to him.

"He wants to resurrect Megatron?" Bumblebee shook from head to toe.

"I do not know Sam." Machine synthesised moans broke through his voice.

"Possibly." He groaned and shook harder, voice escalating with desperation.

"I only promised him the spark energy, what he does with it was up to him." A slight squeal cracked out of him, as though a small overload had sparked his vocal processor and his blue eyes scorched across every part of Sam's body, causing his own shivers to intensify. He needed to end this now before it got out of hand.

"I want you Sam." The voice boiled into him, and all thought of escape evaporated. He almost screamed at what that statement did to him, electricity shooting through him until all he could do was grant the request.

"Please B." His need pulsed between them like a tangible object, as though they could both reach out and touch it, Bumblebee's matching his with a ferocity human's couldn't imagine a machine could feel. His words caused his autobot to jerk beneath him, as though the simple acceptance of his request were an erotic caress.

"Sam…" B's synthesiser turned his name into a long drawn out sound, somewhere between a moan and a sob, his head dropping back to rest against the tree trunk, breaking their gaze. With a click a metal plate in front of him began to shift, the others responding in different ways as part of B seemed to transform his chest, machinery and circuits moving aside to open a path for his eyes to see. There was a brief moment of nothing and then light, actual light, blinded him with its intensity.

Bumblebee's spark lay exposed within him, only a small distance away, and the energy radiating off it assaulted his senses, sending them into overload. He could feel the unnatural sensation of the spark energy in his own body responding, throbbing and moving like a snake beneath his skin. The two energies seemed to meet and duel briefly before B's surged over his. Lightning flew where their bodies contacted each other and he tentatively reached into the exposed opening, nervous yet eager fingers stretched towards the glowing form, desperate to fulfil his mate's request.

It seemed at once too big and too small for its purpose, too big to carry around in one's chest and too small to contain the soul of a creature as magical and complex as B. The glow beckoned him on though, and his fingers were only mere fractions of an inch away when he felt the first pain. A stabbing sensation that filled his abdomen like someone had stuck him with a blade, and then twisted it.

His hand froze, caught in the tide like forces surrounding the spark. Energy arced and shimmered like coruscating solar flares across the surface, connecting with his hand, each jolt like a burst of pleasure within his mind, another demand to obey and complete what he had started. His heartbeat was erratic, beating faster, then slower, in an ever changing rhythm that only it could hear. He needed to stop, needed to separate them, but his body wouldn't respond to his commands, only hearing the need and want that filled each mechanical sound that came from B's vocal processor. His autobot wanted him, and that was all that seemed to matter to the spark energy inside him.

"B." His voice was weak, barely audible above the sounds both of them were making, but it must have registered on the bot's sensitive hearing as his optics focused again on Sam. He couldn't speak anymore but he tried to convey with his eyes what was wrong, that he knew what would happen if they finished this, but at the same time his body refused to disobey B's request.

"Sam. Stop." It didn't sound panicked, didn't sound upset, it was like a command. It blasted through him like a scolding from his parents once had, and like a disobedient child his spark energy withdrew, pulling his hand away from imminent contact with B's and allowing him to scramble down off his autobot's chest as fast as he could, the pain still knifing into him throughout his body.

When his unsteady feet impacted the earth he dropped to his knees, trying to breathe calmly and slow his racing heart. Behind him B was moving, evidently leaning over him as a source of comfort, ensuring they didn't touch. He could feel the scans the bot was running on him without needing to be told, able to sense Bumblebee's need for reassurance as clearly as he had felt his need for other things moments ago.

"You will be ok my bonded." It was a soothing, calming voice, probably created from recordings of psychiatrists and doctors around the world, but still uniquely his B.

"I believe we stopped in time. The symptoms will recede." He nodded and gulped air, already beginning to feel the pain fade, his breathing slowing down.

"Will this plan," he paused to draw a shaky breath, "will it work? Will it get rid of the spark?" Surprisingly it was sadness rather than hope that filled his companion's voice when he replied.

"It is our best chance." He looked over his shoulder, one hand pressed to his heart, the other to the ground, face flushing a little even in his current situation, as his mind registered the vaguely sexual position they were both in, him crouched almost on all fours, Bumblebee looming over him, knees spread to each side of him when he had moved.

"You are upset that it will be removed?" Inside his chest the spark thrummed with a faint sense of dread, anticipating B's rejection, and he wondered when he had become so dependent on the autobot to get by.

"No Sam. I am upset because we will lose this." Sam felt it as B's spark surged, hidden once again behind its armoured protection. His own vibrated with need at the sensation and he cried out, tears carving their way through the sand on his cheeks. He didn't want to lose this, it was the most incredible feeling he'd ever experienced, his mind and the spark within, both cried out for it not to end and he spoke with a choking sob.

"Tell me what you want B? If you want me to keep it I will." His eyes were red and filled with liquid as he met the blue gaze several feet over him.

"I will die for you B if you ask it." He didn't know if it was his imagination or not, but he swore the glowing optics dilated in shock at his statement. It almost seemed like understanding arrived abruptly in the autobot, and with a sudden movement, he stood up to his full sixteen foot height and stepped away.

"That is not what I want Sam. I want you to live." The force seeped out of his voice.

"I am, sorry, for what just happened to you." His sorrow was palpable, not only through their bond but in his voice as well, a remarkable copy.

"I should have predicted this possibility in my calculations." Sam was able to stop clutching his chest as the last of the pain faded away, still panting like he had run a marathon, but able to sit up from his crouching position, feeling markedly less exposed.

"Predicted what?" B refused to look at him, leaning against a tree in such a human like fashion that, ignoring his size and appearance, Sam kept waiting for him to adjust his cap and put his hands in his pockets.

"It is rare, but it has happened in the past. A situation where two sparks are not equal, where their status makes one weaker than their bond mate. Inevitably one submits to the other." Sam felt his throat tighten with fear, and his heart quicken with anticipation.

"What?" He managed to keep his voice even somehow and he felt the autobot's optics flick briefly to him and away again.

"We are machines Sam. Machine's require order and logic above all else. We cannot function in chaos. If one machine is weaker than another the weaker one must submit. It is the logical decision. Both feel the intense need and completion of the bond in the same way, but when a decision is made it is the stronger that makes it." B's hands were tight at his side, metallic equivalent of tendons tightening with a slight whining noise. His voice dropped in volume, the robot equivalent of subdued as he seemed to talk as much to himself as to Sam.

"That is why you always ended up doing what I wanted. Why you would choose not to be with Mikaela whenever I suggested something, why you would drop everything to be with me. And the effect is obviously getting stronger as our bond grows. You no longer refuse as often as you used to." He could see it himself as he looked back; see the small subtle ways in which B had influenced his life. He'd thought it was simply friendship, and then later, love. Now it seemed more sinister, like something had slithered under his skin and was manipulating him from the inside.

"Eventually you will not refuse at all." The soft voice hit him like a fist to the gut.

"Does it affect my feelings? Is everything I've felt a lie?" As quickly as Bumblebee had left him he returned, metallic fingers gently cupping his side as the enormous head delicately pressed against his own.

"Never Sam, do not think that. It can only affect someone when they are becoming bound, when two sparks have recognised each other and are slowly connecting. If we did not already feel what we did our sparks would never have bonded." His doubts disappeared like the wind, sucked away the moment Bumblebee told him not to have them, but it didn't stop him fearing his very _lack _of fear over it.

"Then, if this doesn't work, if the spark stays inside of me, eventually I will be like your slave?" The hand resting against his side tightened briefly at his not quite accusation.

"Not as you are implying. You will still be yourself. It cannot affect your feelings Sam." The hand released again, resuming its gentle touch.

"You will simply be unable to refuse me when I request something." Both of them fell silent after that, Sam desperately trying to deal with the clash between his head and the alien spark. One cried out to resist with everything he had while the other screamed at him to submit.

"How long will Starscream take?" It was emotionless and flat, a simple question to allow his mind to digest the information it had.

"Estimates ran anywhere from an hour to six. He has almost been gone a full hour now so he could be back soon." Sam nodded against the metal, feeling his sweat smear against the polished surface.

"Will this work?" He'd already asked, but he needed to hear it again.

"My estimates put the odds of success at 17.3." The low odds didn't scare him as he thought they should. When one choice is certain death it makes whatever the alternative is look fairly rosy.

"Do you trust Starscream?" B seemed to freeze at his question, not a single sound or movement came from him, like an enormous statue, until the cool fingers wrapped around his waist and his head pulled back so he could see both burning optics.

"No Sam, I do not. But it would seem our other options are limited."

_Fin_

_Well I think this chapter has a little bit of everything for everyone :) Let me know what you think. No doubt it's heading in directions that some people won't be happy with, but I'm not writing a choose your own adventure here people ;)_

_BTW – how cool were those choose your own adventure books:)_

"_If you want Sam to give in and make their relationship physical as well as mental, turn to page 67. If you'd like Starscream to return and reveal he's in love with Megatron, turn to page 92. If you'd like Barricade to somehow turn up while Sam and Bee are getting physical and decide to join in, turn to page 666"_

_LOL :)_


	11. Chapter 11

**Combustion**

_Wow… Seriously people – Wow. The response to chapter 10 was just amazing. I'm beginning to suspect you're all just little dominatrix's at heart ;) who would have thought adding an element to their relationship like that would cause everyone to perk up :D_

_And don't get your hopes up – Barricade will not be joining in a 3some with them :P that was just a funny option I threw in there. He can't come back remember – the allspark was destroyed. I'm afraid that would stretch even my reasoning to its limit (not really, I already thought of 3 different ways to do it), so it won't be happening._

_Everyone seems keen on that 'grouping' and I have to say I don't get it – I much prefer the pureness and commitment of Bee and Sam together (1 on 1), and while I respect your right to want the 3 of them to go at it, that's more porn than literature :D I'm not a big fan of 3somes – I always picture 1 person getting left out :P_

_Anyway - thanks to everyone who reviewed :) you're all inspirations to me, and I have to say I actually just spun the story arc into a sequel lol :P But don't worry – this one will wrap everything up so that if no one wants one it won't be necessary. _

_eg. It __**won't**__ end with "Sam placed his hands in the charred cavity that had once been Megatron's chest, feeling the chill of the deep ocean warming as the spark energy radiated from his palms. Behind him he could hear Bumblebee talking to him, guiding him in what he was supposed to be doing, but he couldn't quite make him out. His consciousness was slipping away from his grasp, just as the power he had harboured for too long slipped from his fingers into the inactive machine in front of him. His vision was growing dim at the edges, a sunset that only he could see, and he tried to tell B that something was wrong. His voice failed him however, and all he could do was sit there as everything around him slowly went black, feeling as he lost control of his body, tilting forward until he was lying across the cold metallic form. He wanted to turn so he could see one last glimpse of the autobot that had become his life, perhaps let him know with his eyes how much what they'd shared had meant to him, but his muscles were no longer his to control. He was a passenger only, as he felt the last of his life sinking away, his final moment bringing him only the slow whirring and movement of the being beneath him coming back to life."_

_Note that I said it WON'T end that way. This is not a teaser lol _

_Anyway._

**Chapter 11**

"Wake up Sam." The voice was soft, gentle, a caress of sounds that swept through his exhaustion and stirred his mind from its dreamless sleep. His world was dark, safe, undisturbed by nightmares or visions, a black nothingness that kept him safe from thought and memory. He didn't want to wake up and remember, to face whatever was waiting for him again.

"Sam?" His mind stirred a little more as recognition seeped into him, then memory began to return as warm metallic fingers delicately pressed against his side. Light pierced his inky cocoon, bringing with it the knowledge of itself and the being it belonged to. He sighed and turned into the caress, feeling the hand move down his side before sliding up along his spine and resting across his shoulders.

"Sam. Wake up." It was not a peaceful request anymore, it was a command, and his eyes shot open as though he had been stabbed with a hot poker. His heart rate and metabolism rapidly increased as his mind and body strived to satisfy the demand as quickly as possible. In bare seconds he felt as though he had been awake for hours, his vision clear and focused as he discerned the individual blades of grass directly in front of him and the still bright sunshine and overbearing heat and humidity. He didn't even remember what the urge to return to his slumber had felt like anymore, gone as though it had never existed, except for the knowledge that the feeling had been there, and he shivered even as he sweat. Being told that this would slowly happen more and more was one thing, experiencing it first hand was quite another. The worst part was he understood and could see what was happening to him, but found himself without the ability or desire to resist it, part of him telling him it was wrong, another telling him it was most definitely right.

"I'm sorry my bonded." There was genuine remorse in B's voice as his hand apologetically clutched his shoulders, the shivering fading away at the soothing touch.

"But you have been asleep for a few hours now and Starscream is approaching our position. I did not think it wise for you to meet him without being prepared." Sam nodded as the hand withdrew, feeling the sharp green blades scrape against his cheek. He pressed his hands to the ground and slowly lifted himself into a sitting position, looking up at the yellow form that hovered above him, feeling the nervousness that infused the spark of his partner as he could feel the dappled sunlight across his skin.

"It's ok B. It's alright. I understand." He briefly wondered whether he actually did understand or whether he now simply performed like a puppet for the autobot beside him. He thought he understood it, thought that was the reason he didn't feel upset about what had been done to him with simple words, but how could one tell when it was your own mind you were fighting?

His companion relaxed slightly at his words, he could feel the tension leave the machine with a barely audible buzz of components, and he sighed while he looked around. The beach was as perfect and brightly lit as it had been when he'd dozed off, just as hot and just as tropical, but the shadows were now stretching in the other direction. Where the tide had been high when he had last seen it, now a broad expanse of sand and shells added another hundred feet of width to the beach, the ocean driven into retreat by the never-ending pull of the moon, until eventually it turned once again. He could see the steep drop off past the breakers, which marked the edge of the plateau that composed the island, turning the water from a sparkling blue green into a dark and bottomless midnight blue. It would be from there that the Decepticon would emerge, pulling with him the body of their fallen leader, simultaneously both Sam's salvation and his doom.

"What will happen B? To me?" He looked up to where Bumblebee was now standing above him.

"To us?" There was a frantic whirring of parts as the yellow head swivelled toward him, those eyes that he had come to know so well burning into him with a fierceness that almost took his breath away. Almost. Behind them he could see a faint glimmer of fear that shook him more than it should have.

"No matter what happens, we are bonded now Sam. Nothing can ever destroy that. You are imprinted into my very spark, nothing can ever remove or replace that." He felt moisture building in his eyes and he hurriedly looked back out at the beach, letting the distant waves sooth him for a minute before trusting himself to speak, his voice still carrying hints of the turmoil he was feeling inside.

"I won't have a spark anymore though B. How can we still be bound to each other?" A synthesised sigh preceded the robot as he settled to the grass covered sand beside him, arms resting across his upright knees in a very human gesture. The dimness of his optics seemed all the more noticeable in the bright dappled sunlight that played across his silver and yellow frame.

"You will not be Sam. You will be released from your bond." He looked up at his autobot with surprise, hearing the clink of metal as B's left arm lifted up from his knee and slowly lowered to almost touch his face, hovering, but not quite connecting.

"Without the spark there to influence your body, you will lose the compulsion you feel toward me, the urge to obey, the sensation when we touch. What you feel for me deep down will not change, the spark did nothing but breathe life and give voice to those, but the imperative, the need that caused you to act on them will go. You will be free to live your entire life as you wished, just as you said you wanted to, dating, family, mating, offspring. Death. They will all be yours again once this is over." The large hand withdrew, and the blue stare returned to the ocean. There was such a forlorn aura around the machine that Sam hesitated to ask his next question, not sure he actually wanted to know the answer lest it weaken his will.

"And you?" They were a loud whisper in the sticky air, hanging like bubbles before them, until even the wind itself seemed to die down, and the surf flatten in order to hear Bumblebee's response.

"The bonding is not dependent on some sort of connection between us Sam. Just as it is still within us when we are not touching, it will remain within me after your spark is gone. The bond once formed is to the personality, the being who is given life by the spark. The fact that without it we cease to exist is immaterial. The spark sustains and nourishes what you would term a soul, what we do with that soul defines us, and it is to that, which we bond, not the spark itself. Unlike us however, your life is separate from the spark, it will not end with its loss, but your obligation, your binding, will. This is something that cannot happen with us, so we have no capacity to undo the bond. The joining has changed me, imprinted you within me, down to the tiniest lines of code in my processors; nothing has been unaffected. I will remain bonded to you for the rest of my existence, whether you have a spark within you or not." It took precious seconds for what he had just been told to seep into him, the understanding hitting him like a physical thing, his stomach churning as a wave of nausea crested over him. He was almost violently ill, but swallowed with difficulty, drawing in a shuddering breath.

"The rest…" He didn't think his mind could comprehend exactly how much time the rest of B's existence encompassed. Just as it was an impossible task to grasp the true concept of a million years, the number, the impact, was simply too large for the human mind to understand. And he _was_ sick then, scrambling up and away from the bot before dropping to all fours and revisiting the small hospital meal against a tree trunk. He shuddered and coughed as dry heaves ran through him, the foul bitterness in his mouth matched by what he felt in his heart. He could remember the things he'd said barely 2 nights ago, as he had compared B's thoughts for him to a one night stand, to a casual thing that would be over in the blink of an eye and then forgotten.

He wiped his face on the front of his shirt; desperately wanting some water to wash out his mouth but not even sure if there was any on this small piece of land. He staggered upright before tottering over and falling back to the ground beside the autobot and leaning his head up against what equated to a hip bone beside him, tears on his cheeks yet again.

"I'm… God, B I'm so… I didn't know." It all seemed insufficient, as though anything Sam said would be too little too late.

"Why? Why would you do it?" The same hand that had not quite touched his face dropped to encircle him, the limb so large it seemed impossible that B could use it to so delicately caress him, the millions of parts spinning and moving inside.

"Because I wished to. Because since I came online I have never felt for anyone what I felt for you. Because after this, anyone I met would have felt like a betrayal of those feelings. Now I can never forget, I can never betray, and I will have the memory of what we experienced, that moment of connection, of joining. It is a gift I will treasure until the day I go offline." The metallic fingers gently caressed across his chest and shoulders, a comforting touch that seemed to say that everything was alright.

"Perhaps it is better this way. As you pointed out, it would have been your whole life without another human mate. Perhaps this way we both get what we want. We both have the memory." The hand stopped for a minute, just resting around him, B obviously holding most of the weight to stop it crushing him.

"I will have to leave you though. We will have to arrange for someone else to be your guardian." Fresh tears coursed across his face, joining the other salty tracks still there from earlier. He knew it, somehow, had been dreading that admission.

"You will be free, but I will still be bound. I will not be able to see you with someone else." The spark lashed out within him at even the thought of another apart from B, and the pain was almost welcome as he fought it, seeming like some sort of justice to what he had now inflicted on his bonded.

"As soon as you are fully recovered I will depart. I do not want for you to hold back out of guilt or obligation." The large fingers resumed their halted stroking.

"I wish for you to live and be happy Sam. That is the most anyone can want for the one they love." He wanted to scream. He wanted to kick and hit and bite to expunge the feelings within him. It felt like an unbearable pressure inside his ribs, as though his heart wanted to explode outwards. He turned into Bumblebee and subbed, wrapping his arms around as much of the autobot as he could reach, feeling the other metal hand join the first as they gently encased him, the closest they could get to an actual hug. He no longer wanted to go through with what they were here to do, in spite of what Bumblebee had said, and he tried to think of a way to talk the robot out of it. Before he could come up with anything however, B stiffened and gradually pulled away, and their time was up.

"Starscream is almost here. We need to get ready." His autobot made no move to stand however, continuing to hold and support him until eventually he found his own feet and stood up, Bumblebee coming to his feet beside him. Machine optics and human eyes were both fixated as out beyond the island shelf the water surged and bubbled, frothing like the ocean itself was trying to expunge something from its depths. First as a faint shadow, then a more distinct shape something began to rise from the blue, becoming silver as it approached the surface, before erupting from the water into the shallows brought by low tide.

Starscream seemed to tower above everything there, even Bumblebee's gaze turned slightly upwards. He was dwarfed however by the mass draped across his shoulders. It was eerie to see such a huge shape of metal hanging by its arms from the Decepticon, like a child attempting to give an adult a piggyback, the former leader's feet dragging through the water and sand as Starscream staggered towards the beach. In a surprising gesture, B left the shade of the trees, jogging wetly through the salt water to the larger bot's side and trying to relieve him of some of the burden. For his efforts he got only a hiss and a shove from the Decepticon that landed him up to his neck in the ocean.

"This is _mine_ to carry Autobot. Go tend to your _human_." Sam felt pinned by the sinister glare directed at him, trying to huddle in on himself for protection. Surprisingly Bumblebee made no move to defend him, only slowly standing up and walking slightly ahead of their unwilling ally up onto dry land, where Starscream laid his burden carefully into the sand.

Sam stepped out from the tree line with the hesitance of a cockroach emerging from underneath the fridge. A metaphor that, considering how the Decepticon towered above him, was not entirely unwarranted. The sand was slightly cooler under his feet than it had been during the middle of the day, but it was still enough to be uncomfortable, the open expanse cooked like an oven and left no cover between himself and Starscream but the body of the fallen leader. Bumblebee was standing off to one side as the two of them looked over each other, the larger bot emitting a squealing trill that might have been a laugh.

"Look at it. It trembles in fear, afraid that I will step on it as they do to the insects on this world." His glowing optics held none of the warmth or beauty of B's, only a cold, angry fury that seemed directed at everything and everyone.

"You willingly bound yourself to this, _thing_? You Autobots are worse off than I thought." Sam swallowed uncomfortably, eyes swinging back and forth between his guardian and the shining silver machine next to him.

"Perhaps Starscream. But at least I _have_ a bonded." The shriek that came from the larger bot quickly answered Sam's question about where he had obtained his name, and he scrambled backwards through the sand, as with almost unimaginable speed, an enormous hand closed around Bumblebee's throat. The metal fingers made a clinking sound against B's armour, the sound a sinister staccato of construction, in the otherwise natural surroundings. His bonded made no attempt to fend off the attack, standing there impassively in the face of the apparent anger.

"You would be wise not to anger me Autobot. Your precious Optimus Prime is not here to save you, and your usefulness to me is rapidly approaching its end." Machine wills seemed to battle in the air in front of him until he almost thought he could see sparks literally flying between them. It seemed to drag on forever, both of them as unmoving as the body before them, until eventually the silver claws loosened their grip and released Bumblebee's neck, their owner crouching over the form on the beach and performing some sort of scan.

Bumblebee left the Decepticon to his work and came closer to Sam, crouching down and brushing his fingertips over his face and neck. He didn't want to think about the fact that it could be the last time he ever felt the sensation that action caused. B's voice was urgent but soft as he spoke, but Sam couldn't take his eyes off Starscream and what he was doing.

"It is almost time now. Remember this, you don't need to do anything, the spark will want to leave you, it will feel the call of the shard it was originally meant for and it will wish to leave of its own accord." The fingers stopped stroking and gently turned his head so their eyes could meet.

"Do not fight it Sam. Do not try and hold onto it out of some wish to keep what we have, you must let it go. It is the only way to save you." Sam nodded slowly, the spark energy making him unable to disobey, the command as bittersweet as one lover asking another to cut his head off.

"I promise." The fingers released him and his eyes fell to the churned sand surrounding them, the previous perfection of the beach ruined by their presence. Further down toward the ocean Sam heard their present companion mutter something derogatory about humans and Autobots, and his eyes flicked back up to the silver forms near the waterline. Those darkly glowing optics met his gaze again and he shivered under their stare, his voice strident and angry in an attempt to bolster his confidence.

"If you hate this so much, why did you agree to help? Surely you could have taken me by force once Bumblebee told you what had happened." Afterwards he couldn't believe he'd actually said anything to a creature who so clearly hated him. He clamped his mouth shut on the angry words, feeling each giant step vibrate up through the ground until he fell onto his back and the huge head leaned over him, the Decepticon crouched like a spider above him, anger filled optics bare inches from his body.

"I am alone _human_. You were surrounded by autobots. You also obviously know nothing about bonding if you think your pet here would ever let me near you without his consent." The sinister glow slid to the side, seeming to drag his own vision with it, until they rested on Bumblebee, standing perfectly still, gun barrels pressed gently against the side of Starscream's head.

"Why do you even want him back anyway?" He wanted to kick himself for letting his mouth run away with him again, but now that he'd started he couldn't seem to turn it off.

"From what I saw and heard he doesn't exactly care about you or any of the other Decepticons, why go out of your way to bring back someone who's only going to abuse you for your trouble?" The optics seemed to flash briefly with, something, before they turned as hard and cold as ice. It seemed he had a knack for putting himself underneath a robot intent on harming him, the position vaguely like that Megatron had been in.

"Not all bondings can be as blessedly reciprocated as yours, _human_." The head slowly pulled away, though the gaze stayed unwaveringly locked with his.

"Sometimes a spark feels it has no partner worthy of bonding with it." That flash flew across Starscream's optics again, something that briefly interrupted the overwhelming anger that poured from them.

"No matter how much another may try to prove it." There was a second, after that statement, as the truth of what the Decepticon was saying soaked in, that Sam felt sadness for his plight. After what he had just learnt from Bumblebee, about what would happen to the bot after they completed what they were here to do, he could imagine what it must have been like.

An eternity spent living with the knowledge that you had found what you were seeking, and an eternity knowing you could never have it. Worse still, feeling compelled for that eternity to try and prove yourself worthy of it. At least B would have the comfort of his memories as some small consolation. Starscream would have only abuse and rejection.

"I'm sorry." That shrill squealing laugh came again as the Decepticon righted himself, Bumblebee's cannons folding away with a soft buzz as the threat disappeared.

"I require nothing from you except the spark you are harbouring boy. Keep your sympathy and understanding for those who need them." With a thud the steps returned to the even larger bot lying near the waves, head turning to them again briefly.

"We need to hurry and complete this. We don't have much time. Your friends draw closer with every moment."

_Fin_

_Dun dun DUN!_

_Or maybe the better sound would be that drum sound after a bad joke "baddump PSSH"._

_Not really happy with this one, but oh well. Getting closer people! Not long and then it will all be over and you can thank god you don't have to put up with my writing anymore :D_


	12. Chapter 12

**Combustion**

_Well the response to Chapter 11 was extremely lukewarm :) So I'm guessing people are getting eager for an ending. I think there'll be 2 more chapters then it'll all be over ;) hope you can hang out that long!_

_Thanks to the usual suspects (the people, not the movie) for their reviews – especially Dania who took time out from her studies to write one of her usual elegant and insightful reviews… This time including BIBLE references :D_

_I won't comment on the irony of referencing the bible when reviewing a story that contains both homosexual and inter-species relationships LOL ;) because the effort is appreciated above and beyond the source material. Your comments were as insightful and interesting as usual :D_

_We're heading toward climax now people – not the sexual kind – just the plot._

**Chapter 12**

"We need to hurry and complete this. We don't have much time. Your friends draw closer with every moment." Sam looked at B for confirmation, his autobot nodding slightly to indicate that Starscream told the truth.

"We must finish this before they get here Sam. Prime will not allow us to do anything to raise Megatron." Bumblebee's voice held a slight tint of fear, a tone that painfully reminded Sam of the expression on his face when he had found him being tortured by Section 7. Now though, he wasn't sure whether it was fear of Optimus himself or fears that he would stop them, and Sam would die. The sounds that reached his more primitive human hearing only a second afterwards was not the Autobot leader however, but the roar of jet engines, the sound accompanied by a sudden thump as two fighter aircraft flashed by overhead, surging on out to sea before peeling apart like diverging forks in a road and swooping delicately back towards the beach. The sea vibrated at their presence, stirred into an agitated dance by mankind's violation of its domain, the waves appearing like white tipped hands, grasping for the intruders that somehow managed to defy them. Sam stood frozen as the front of the two aircraft lit up with flashes, the sight reaching him seconds before the first shells slammed into the whitecaps, the small splashes streaking toward the beach in a deadly strafe, as though to somehow subdue the ocean before dealing with the land. The two points were aimed towards convergence; a cross that would meet somewhere near where he was standing and his eyes widened in alarm. He felt Bumblebee gently yet firmly grasp him and pull him to the side, folding around him as they hit the beach as though trying to turn into his car form with Sam already inside.

The small bursts of water turned into plumes of sand, marching towards them, though Sam could feel little but the warmth of B around him and the beating of their bond. With a flurry of pings as metal impacted metal, the trail of bullets passed over them in fractions of a second and continued up the sand, before shredding several trees and then cutting off. A second later the jets followed the path made by their own bullets and then passed back over the island, disappearing from sight. Sam drew in several shuddering breaths and gently pressed against B's chest to indicate that he wished to stand up again.

"B? Are you alright?" With a reluctant whirring Bumblebee slowly pulled away from him but did not immediately stand up.

"I am fine Sam." His bot's voice sounded surprised, and as he looked over the yellow armoured shoulder he almost choked on his own saliva. Dark optics stared down from only a couple of feet away; the larger head of the Decepticon watching both of them from where he crouched over their prone forms. He heard the surprise and gratitude he knew was on his face expressed in his voice, as he addressed their temporary ally.

"Why?" The silver bot stood up as B righted himself, assisting Sam to his feet at the same time, hand curled around his shoulders. He thought he saw the optics glance between them with something undefinable before his face seemed to sneer, as much as a mechanical being could, and the glow narrowed to slits.

"Don't expect it again human. I didn't do it out of kindness or camaraderie. If you die, Megatron dies; it's as simple as that." Sam didn't take his eyes off the Decepticon as he spoke, and nodded at him in acceptance.

"Well, thank you anyway." Sam felt the warm metal hand of his guardian tighten around him, and his eyes flicked to the blue optics he knew so well, swearing he saw jealousy surging through them. Bumblebee noticed his stare and hurriedly looked away, a fingernails down a blackboard laugh coming from Starscream, as he turned down the beach.

"They are here, and the Autobots won't be far behind. Do what you have to do. Your yellow friend and I will hold them off as long as possible." He didn't even wait for them to respond before, with the familiar sound he transformed, and the massive jet blasted away from the beach, leaving a puddle of hardening glass in its wake. Seconds later a boom announced as he crossed the sound barrier in pursuit of the retreating forces, and then silence briefly returned to the island. The cold corpse of the dead Decepticon was streatched out on the sands before him, like an enormous, immovable monument to the immutability of his fate. It felt like a physical force, dragging him onwards with the same firmness of grip that time pulled towards death.

"It will all be ok my love." B's voice was a welcome break to the peace, the artificial sounds breaking the now unwelcome nature surrounding them. He was going to ask how the Autobot knew that, how he could be sure this was all going to work out, when they had seemingly betrayed their friends, the government was after them and they were about to resurrect the greatest threat the planet had ever known. He wanted to ask and be reassured that Bumblebee had an answer, but a sudden explosion shook the earth beneath them and set the trees vibrating like a field of grain. A fireball bloomed into the sky from the distant side of the island, dispersing into the atmosphere with a shimmer, rippling as the ocean did behind him.

"Do it Sam." Intense blue seared into his own panicked brown as a yellow armoured arm pointed at the inactive body awaiting him.

"Now." His legs moved without thought, the command too strong to deny. He wanted to take a minute to tell Bumblebee everything he thought and felt, to let him know that no matter what happened he had been happy like he'd never been before since the bot had come into his life, but his body refused him. He became a temporary passenger as he scrambled down the sand, forced on by the urgency of B's request, the silver torso getting taller and taller in his vision, watching over his shoulder as the cannons unfolded from their hidden compartments within his bonded's arms and he turned towards the not so distant trees.

Another jet shot past overhead, barely high enough to clear the treetops, stirring the sand up into swirling eddies, Sam throwing himself to the ground as the grains got into his eyes and blinded him, feeling the heat of its exhaust wash against him like waves in the already stifling afternoon. A second later Starscream shot over as well; the gracefulness and total control of his flight making the human pilot of the other plane seem incompetent by comparison.

"What are you waiting for human? Do it _now_!" The synthesised voice shrieked across the beach with the same volume as the jet exhaust, as a missile peeled away from his underside toward the retreating manned aircraft. Sam blinked to clear the sand from his eyes, watching with baited breath as the pilot desperately tried to avoid the projectile, first pulling up into an almost vertical ascent before banking and diving, levelling out seemingly only inches above the water. A plume of water vaporised to steam as a wake peeled away from the plane's path, the missile plunging into the ocean and detonating several hundred feet out to sea. A split second later the fireball blasted into the air, superheated water spraying outward from the explosion like a deadly fountain around the flames.

Starscream ploughed through the water and fire without hesitation, emerging from the other side wreathed in steam and flame, like some demonic form from the gates of hell, mere feet behind the navy jet. Both seemed to fire at the same time, the missiles taking off with single minded directness, the small rockets looking like children streaking away from their parent aircraft. Sam jumped up in alarm, his hands and feet displacing the sand in his frenzy to move, slipping in the loose grains. The human piloted jet exploded to his left as the Decepticon missile caught it squarely behind the cockpit, bursting apart like a metal balloon, shrapnel blasted out like deadly projectiles that Starscream flew heedlessly into as he attempted to reach the missile that was now zeroing in on Sam and Megatron.

Sam could see he wouldn't make it however, and couldn't risk shooting at it lest his shots miss and impact the very human he was trying to save. He watched almost in slow motion as the alien jet seemed to realise this and helplessly pulled up, the missile coming on with the relentlessness of a train set on its rails. He was mere feet from the presumed safety of the large bot now, and he leapt off the soft sand, arm outstretched to grasp something to pull him up onto the enormous ribcage, but human muscles couldn't compare with the speed of computers and machinery. It seemed his feet had barely left the ground when light filled his vision, like that of his bond to Bumblebee, but this time it simply brightened the world around him, rather than obscure it. His shadow briefly became a sharp edged silhouette against the metal in front of him, a blackness that appeared to almost have depth compared to the reflections of the light around it, until even that darkness was lost and his vision was whited out.

What must have been a fraction of a second later the heat hit him. It instantly passed through his relatively thin clothing, searing his back with the intensity of a thousand whips, flaying the skin from the muscle beneath, the smell of charred flesh filling his nostrils moments before his nerves seemed to register the pain and he screamed. Or at least he would have, if the shockwave hadn't arrived and torn the very air from around him. It hit him like a truck, throwing him into the body before him and swirling him about like a leaf, sucking the oxygen straight from his lungs. His hands flailed wildly as he tried to grab a hold of anything to halt his tumbling, his fingers closing around something hard, grasping hold with the tenacity of a rock climber.

The object bit into his palm like a knife, slicing it open, but he refused to let go, pulling his other hand in and grabbing on with it as well, feeling the same sharpness cut through the second palm with just as much ease. He could feel moisture on his cheeks and his lungs contracting painfully with his cries and sobs as they struggled to draw in air, but his vision and hearing remained ineffective.

After the turbulence subsided, it took seconds for anything but the pain in his body to register, sound the first to return. The noise of familiar sounding cannons firing filtered through his shock, while more explosions could be heard in the distance as well as the shriek of missiles and the stuttering purr of automatic weapons.

As his vision began to filter back to him, the first thing he saw was the shining surface his head was pressed against. Colour began to return a second after that as his cones recovered after the brightness, the surface turning crimson, liquid marring the silver metal before him. He slowly lifted his head so he could determine exactly where he was, the moving tearing through the missing skin on his back and making him cry out again, fresh tears pouring out of his eyes and slightly blurring everything around him, giving it a softness that helped to hide the destruction being wrought. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him to see a vague yellow shape further down the beach, being swarmed from the tree line by numerous small camouflaged blobs, their rifles spitting flame as B's own weapons returned blue tinted fire. A streak of light bloomed from one of the figures as a shoulder launched missile was launched, catching his autobot on the back of his right shoulder, throwing him to one knee.

Sam desperately wanted to go to him, in spite of the fact that he knew there was as little he could do now as there had been when B had been caught under the bridge by Section 7. It was a need though, this desire to go to his aid. One which he could not fulfil however, ordered to complete his mission, commanded by one whom he could not disobey. He slowly dragged himself further across the Decepticon chest he had landed on, the ragged edge of the wound revealed as the source of the cuts on his hands. It was a burnt and charred hole in the incredible machine that was so much like the being he loved and had bound himself to. He could already feel the spark energy inside his chest humming with some sort of resonance to the cavity before him, as though it somehow knew it had been returned to where it was meant to be. All he needed to do was get close enough to the dead spark crystal and his mission would be over.

As would his bond to Bumblebee.

"Move away from the body Sam." He froze at the booming voice, Ironhide, coming from somewhere behind and above him, but was unable to look due to the pain in his back.

"I can't Ironhide." He braced himself, not sure whether the military bot would shoot him or just step on him. He'd never got that close to the seemingly more violent autobot, he'd always seemed just as likely to put a bullet in him as talk to him, and he didn't anticipate any leniency now.

"I know this may seem like a way out for you, that you're scared of dying, but by doing this you potentially destroy the entire galaxy. This is not a logical decision. I must make sure you do not succeed." Sam squeezed his eyes closed, feeling a couple of final drops leak out from his closing lids as he forced himself to ignore the pain and slowly turn his head to face the intimidating machine, cannons deployed and ready.

"I have no choice. Even if I wanted to change my mind I couldn't. B ordered me to do this and I cannot disobey." He dragged himself another painful inch closer, smearing more red handprints across the silver chest. Ironhide's optics widened and brightened at his revelation, and he seemed to grasp what he meant without having to say it.

"You have an asymmetrical bond." Sam nodded, not sure whether he felt shame or pride at having admitted as much, still trying to reach where the pull of the spark energy told him he had to be. The confession seemed to momentarily shock Ironhide into inaction, allowing him to further close with the wound he was aiming for, before the shadow of a giant hand fell across him.

"I still cannot let you achieve your objective. If you will not come peacefully I will be forced to take you." The spark didn't want to leave, it couldn't disobey Bumblebee's command and it could feel its destination so close.

"No! You can't! Please Ironhide!" The hand was about to close around him, forcefully dragging him off Megatron, when a thud sounded from further down the beach. Sam's eyes swivelled over the bot's shoulder, watching as Starscream flew bare feet above the sand, closing the distance in mere seconds before transforming in midair and landing on Ironhide's back with an enormous screech of metal on metal.

The impact threw them both to the ground, the aerial Decepticon's momentum carefully targeted to pull the hand away from Sam, hurling the larger machine off the Autobot, rolling him head over heels until he righted himself in a protective stance in front of Megatron, feet sliding several feet in the sand.

"You will not stop us now Autobot. Megatron will rise again, and you will all feel his wrath." Ironhide's answer was punctuated by his cannons, unloading a barrage towards the silver bot.

"As will you Starscream." The volley went wild of its target, the smaller of the two not having managed to completely correct himself after their impact. His words didn't help him, Sam feeling them particularly and unnecessarily vicious considering the seriousness of the situation, and they stirred the already flammable Decepticon into overdrive. His metallic shriek echoed up and down the beach as he charged, putting his shoulder into Ironhide with a crunch, and locking the two of them into an ugly exchange of blows.

Out of the corner of his eye Sam caught a flash of blue and red towering over the forest in the interior of the island, announcing Optimus Prime's arrival long before he could fire into the raging battle around him. Thankfully the human soldiers showed no sign of assisting the Autobots in their struggle, evidently the two sides not working together on this operation, Prime more than likely too secretive to go to the government for aid and the government too suspicious to attempt communication. If he was going to do this he had to do it now. If Optimus got here it would be too late, he would decide this battle without Megatron to oppose him.

His bloody hands scrabbled for purchase against the slickness of the metal, his sneakers trying to gain a foothold to help push him forwards, somehow managing to cross the final inches to the larger wound which marked Megatrons death blow from the allspark. It was cold inside, as though the Decepticon's hatred and anger had somehow infused even the metal of his body, leaving it chilled and unable to ever feel warmth. The cavity was dark; managing to keep its shadows even under the bright tropical sun, but somewhere within, it glowed. Not the same piercing and beautiful brightness of B, but a pure and powerful light all the same.

He could see it, not as a physical sensation, but as something felt from inside. He reached out for it, his hand stretching into the blackness, the chill seeping into his flesh and travelling up his arm to his shoulder, numbing the limb. Blood dripped from his fingertips, disappearing into the alien robot's depths, each drop sparkling with the energy that he could feel gathering around his hand, building to some sort of release.

The first connection was like a static discharge, a small zap that disappeared as quickly as it came. The second was like lightning, a fork of energy searing between his hand and the metal interior, lighting it up with the flickering effect of a strobe light, another following it. The pulses became more and more frequent, each one connecting his hand to the metal skin around it, until it looked like the ball inside a plasma lamp, set on overload.

He could feel a draining sensation as the energy began to leave him, like a slow leak that could be overlooked, yet would bleed you dry if not healed quickly. It seemed wrong, the energy had almost become so much a part of his life that he didn't even notice it anymore, his body no longer feeling the spark as an intruder, but as something necessary to his survival. He didn't want to lose it, give up on what it had allowed him to have, and he felt no indications of life from the body below him, no movement, no warmth, and no energy. Instead it just seemed to be creating a more and more blinding lightshow. He could make out the slagged and melted remains of the spark chamber now, see the dark and shattered crystal contained within. It chilled him in a way the cold couldn't. It seemed almost wrong, that something he knew would have been so beautiful during its life, could be so evil that it could desire to destroy the world.

Now it refused to return to that life, the shards unmoving and unresponsive to the energy his hand was creating nearby. And if they wouldn't take the life back from him, why should he surrender it to them?

"_Sam_!" It was a desperate cry from his partner and his head jerked automatically to focus on that sound. His eyes looked across a landscape that resembled a World War II film, the previously pristine beach now pockmarked by craters and debris. A portion of the forest had caught alight at some point, blazing with a smoky fury that would no doubt eventually consume every living thing on the island before it was extinguished by a lack of fuel. His autobot stood amongst the flames and wreckage like some sort of fallen mechanical angel, his silver and yellow finish gleaming under the sun, but marred by soot and scars where his armour and components were damaged or missing.

Nearby, Starscream and Ironhide were still grappling, the blows crunching against each other with a force that would have made him wince if he weren't already in enormous pain. More aircraft were appearing in the sky, no longer hindered or hesitant due to Starscream's presence.

"We don't have much time Sam." B was firing at the groups of men advancing on Megatron's corpse, hitting only sand, not wanting to kill without necessity. They'd realised this however, and didn't even try to get out of the way, walking straight on through the clouds of sand each shot billowed up, their muzzles flashing. He looked back down to where the glow seemed to have reached critical mass, watching it swirl and shimmer like the life force it actually was, and knew he had to let it go. He didn't want to, in spite of what it had done to his life, what it was doing and had done to his body, because without it he would never be whole again. But this was about more than just him, it was about B, and if he didn't do this not only would he be failing the command he had been given, but he would be betraying the sacrifice his guardian was making to give him his life.

He took one last look at the crackling power in his fist, trying to imprint this final feeling into his mind so he could always remember it later, and then willed it gone.

There was a concussion without sound. An explosion with no flames, and the energy disappeared. The spark chamber of the enormous Decepticon detonated, hurling him off as it expelled the debris from within it, metal healing like flesh across the scar. He felt some of the wreckage add to his pain as it pierced his skin, before his injured back hit the sand and he slid, the grains abrading like sandpaper through his torn and charred clothing. He screamed out and cried at the same time, Bumblebee's name on his lips, drowned out by the roar of the formerly inanimate bot coming back to life.

His call was just as blood curdling to hear this time as it had been in the first battle, a scream that seemed to promise an eternity of destruction and terror for those who heard it. It signalled an end to hope for his enemies, doom for the Earth and its inhabitants, and death for any who betrayed him. Activity on the beach came to an abrupt and terrifying halt, the soldiers falling back like ants before the enormous size of Megatron. Beyond him, Ironhide and Starscream were feet apart, standing dead still in battle readiness, Bumblebee was further away, his cannons directed at the retreating troops, but his optics were fixed on Sam with a laser like precision. He could feel the blue stare taking in his wounds and condition, desperate to come to him but unable to move for fear of drawing the newly resurrected Decepticon's attention.

"Megatron." It was obvious now, after Starscream's comments, to hear the hidden desire in the flyer's voice, the yearning that Sam had heard in his own recently. But when Megatron turned and addressed him, unlike B, the rejection sounded clear and strong in his voice.

"Starscream. You failed me again." Even though the words were dismissive and condescending, the smaller Decepticon shivered slightly simply to hear them. Sam wondered if other's noticed when he did that around Bumblebee. It was a terrifying thought, and he didn't want to know just how far the similarities between them went.

"But Megatron, I found a way to bring you back. I never stopped…" A cannon was deployed within a second, Starscream's voice fading as the arm pointed at him unwaveringly.

"You fled Starscream. You betrayed and abandoned us." There was a fierce fire ignited at the formerly dead leader's words, the flyer stepping fearlessly up to the barrel of the gun.

"What reason would I have to stay Megatron? I left, and now I've returned to bring you back. Nothing I could have done would have impressed you. Had I died in battle defending you it still would have been insufficient to please you, and then we both would have been dead. At least now we live." Nothing seemed to happen for half a minute, nothing moving except the relentless force of the wind and the waves, no sound except the distant roar of the fire. The Decepticon took in the surroundings, noticing that he was outnumbered and surrounded, becoming aware that to the best of his knowledge Starscream could be his only ally, then, with a feral snarl that resembled rending metal Megatron withdrew his arm. The cannon folded swiftly away, the enormous bot taking one final look around before, without speaking another word, he transformed. His alien jet like appearance took shape, larger even than Starscream, and without waiting for his saviour, he blasted out over the ocean.

The sudden noise seemed to wake the beach back to action, Bumblebee sprinted towards him, ready to shield him from whatever was coming while Ironhide jumped toward Starscream, ready to pick the battle right up again. The Decepticon was already transforming however, the F-22 lacking the alien styling of Megatron, but taking off with the same speed and agility, the blast knocking the Autobot back several feet and throwing sand in every direction.

Sam watched as it disappeared overhead, aware as B came to a stop beside him, sinking into the sand and gently extending a hand to rest carefully against his side. Even that small touch caused him pain and he hissed, looking at the bot above him and feeling sorrow that apart from the agony, the touch had done nothing else. No tingle filled him, no energy connected them, and no visions of B's spark pulsed within. He could see the same realisation and understanding in the blue glowing optics above him and felt fresh tears, unrelated to the pain, course down his cheeks.

"It's gone isn't it?" His voice sounded as hurt as his body actually was.

"I do not know Sam." His autobot's vocal synthesiser somehow managed to convey a sadness so deep it seemed to suck all the warmth out of the world around it, imbued with so much loss and despair that one could get caught up in it, and never escape.

"Oh, Bumblebee." He looked away, unable to stare into the mechanical eyes anymore, instead watching the group of soldiers heading towards them, guns drawn, and the Autobots assembling behind them.

"I'm so sorry this has cost you everything." The sound of Bumblebee transforming prompted him to turn back around, gunfire singing out in the afternoon at what to the soldiers could easily be a hostile act, and ricocheting off B's hood and sides.

"You haven't Sam. Not yet." The door next to him swung open.

"Get in. Now." The bond was gone, or at least the urge was no longer present to obey B without thought, but beyond everything else, the Autobot was his protector, his guardian, and he trusted him without question.

He forced his body to move, ignoring the blood and the pain, dragging himself across the sand, his shoes pushing him into the cool interior, apologising for spreading sand and drying blood into the upholstery. The door slammed shut behind him, the ping of bullets on glass replacing the surf and the flames.

He was going to ask what they would do, how they were going to escape, or even what the Autobots and the government would do with them when they were taken back, but a familiar boom suddenly split the air. The gunfire halted with the sound of men yelling to fall back, the autobot's cannons resounding in the afternoon in their place. B's seatbelts shot out of their retainers, twisting around his body lying prone on the backseat, trying to avoid the most injured and tender areas, only partly succeeding. The buckles clicked home, locking him in place on the leather as a jolt rocked through them. Another blast of cannon fire seemed to pass very close to them as B tilted sharply to one side.

Then they were airborne, the ground disappearing far below them, and within seconds had passed out of range.

_Fin_

_We're getting there guys :D Closer and closer to the end._

_I'm not real happy with this chapter – I can't write action. Let's face it I'm an emotions person, raw action scenes seem to turn out insufficient when I write them. But as I've said before – It does what it needs to!_


	13. Chapter 13

**Combustion**

_Man – I hate that stuffs up so regularly… No chapter alert was sent out for 12 and no review alerts came through to me either. I was most upset :D I mean it's still not working now as far as I can tell. I saw someone had posted a review just a couple of hours ago and still it didn't come through to me. I guess I'll know if the chapter alert is working once I post this, but it's too late then if it's not :P_

_Anyway, people wondered how I was going to finish this in 2 chapters… well I may have been stretching it. We'll find out soon enough!_

_On to chapter 13 - lucky I'm not posting on a Friday… Cos you know, that would totally be evil and bad luck lol :D_

**Chapter 13**

More than ever before, Bumblebee was absolutely certain he could never be a flyer. The sensation of nothing beneath his wheels, the knowledge that should he fall from this height it would destroy even him; it was a loss of control that he definitely didn't like. The fact that his safety and survival rested solely in the hands of a Decepticon didn't help matters either. It had been an unexpected act, returning for them, something he never would have expected from Starscream, risking his own life, slightly, to pick them up and spirit them away. He was still waiting for the other gear to turn and the larger cybertronian to demand something from them as payment, or drop them into the ocean.

But he had been silent, not uttering a word or explanation as he carried B in his car form beneath his large wingspan, their destination appearing to be either Indonesia or Australia. He could find no indication of Megatron's presence anywhere nearby, nothing on scanners or within visual range. It posed a problem for his computations, one which had given him only three options. First, the newly resurrected Decepticon had ditched Starscream and gone off on his own, second, he had ordered their rescue, planning to rendezvous later, or three, that their saviour was acting of his own accord. None of the options made any sense to his processors. Megatron may have been powerful but he was hardly a match for Optimus and all of the Autobots combined, so he was unlikely to abandon Starscream when to the best of his knowledge the flyer was his only remaining ally. He was also not the type of bot who would feel any type of guilt about abandoning his rescuers to their fate if it posed even the slightest risk to himself, so there was no reason to send said only ally back to save them. And finally, Starscream was for the most part a coward, and having just resurrected Megatron, was unlikely to anger him again so quickly. Everything he ever did was an attempt to please or impress the Decepticon leader, whether that was proving his loyalty by informing on possible traitors, or even trying to prove his strength and cunning by overthrowing him himself. Saving the two of them would neither impress nor please Megatron.

So he was stuck with a probability assessment nightmare, with no way to predict the outcome without knowing the motivation behind their rescue in the first place. They were only minutes away from landfall, the power behind the jet propelling them into the high atmosphere, where they flew at speeds not possible in the commercial zones below. Shortly they would begin their drop, plunging back into the thick, warm layer of gasses that cradled life on this small rock, the final descent occurring almost directly over their target, limiting exposure to human detection systems and interference. Most likely they would be dropped off and Starscream gone before the human controllers even picked up the phone to report the sudden appearance and disappearance of a blip on their radars. If he was going to get an answer this was the only chance he'd get.

"Why?" The tight beam transmission was received instantly, as though their transport had been expecting it and ready, the response beamed back just as swiftly.

"He ordered it." His processors recalculated, eliminating the options that didn't include an order from Megatron. It did nothing to alleviate his doubts, only raising more questions rather than answer them

"I convinced him you were more valuable alive than dead. Or in Autobot hands." It sounded like a typically Decepticon motive, something vague and shadowy that whispered of plans and calculations. But it lacked the bite usually accompanying such mysterious pronouncements.

"How are we valuable to Megatron? We're outcasts, fugitives from both my people and Sam's." The reminder of his passenger prompted him to check up on his cabin. His human was still sleeping uneasily on the back seat as he had been since only a few short minutes into their flight. It had been helped a little by the light sedative he'd put into his atmosphere, giving Sam some relief from the pain caused by his wounds.

"You Autobots never look ahead. It is one of your biggest failings." Surprisingly it was said with almost humour rather than an attempt to insult or discredit.

"You may be fugitives now, but eventually you will redeem yourselves and regain your position." There was a jolt as they began dropping from their altitude, a steep glide trajectory that probably would have ripped a less robust vehicle apart.

"You will be welcomed back with open arms as the two who strayed for love, even Optimus will come to forgive your sins, if he hasn't already, and their faith and trust in you will be restored." The Australian continent was large ahead of him now, approaching them at a pace that would have made him nervous had he not the ability to calculate their margin of safety. Still speaking to him over the transmission, Starscream's voice dropped until it was almost a self satisfied smirk.

"Most importantly, will be the knowledge of what I have done for you, the debt you now owe, a concept important to all Autobots. Because at some distant point in the future we will meet again, Bumblebee. It may not happen immediately, but at some time, some critical moment, you will face me, and for just a nanosecond you will remember that I helped you escape and rescue your bond mate." Bumblebee shook as their plummet slowed, a lonely stretch of coastal road stretching ahead of them.

"And in that instant, Autobot, you will hesitate. And I will win." The last was said in a triumphant whisper as he was released by the large jet, his wheels already spinning at a speed roughly the same as their velocity. He hit the road with a squeal, plumes of smoke billowing out from each tyre. He braked as soon as it was safe to do so, watching as their temporary ally became an enemy again and disappeared back up into the sky.

"We'll see Starscream." A hideous screeching laugh was his final response before the communications were firmly cut, and the Decepticon disappeared from sensors, leaving him alone in a foreign land. He was without allies, friends or purpose now except for the care of his bonded, but as he was coming to understand, that was all he actually needed.

He released the tightness of the safety belts as he checked over the slumbering human inside him, the sedative keeping him oblivious to the world even through the jolt of their landing. Sam looked definitely worse for wear, numerous small wounds dotted the front of his chest where he could see, the thin material of his shirt practically gone except for the remains of the collar and a small tattered bib like section that must have been shielded from the missile explosion behind him. His jeans had stood up better, only torn and holed rather than shredded and gone, but they had offered no protection to his back, which was bloody as well as blistered and burnt. The wounds were severe, of that there was little doubt in his processors, but it seemed there was little he could do. From what he'd seen as they came down he was a long way from the nearest medical facility, an hour at least even going well beyond the speed of an earth vehicle.

His databanks rebelled at not being able to do anything to help, so he vented a counteragent to the sedative he'd used, hating to inflict the pain of his wounds on his bonded, but unwilling to risk him slipping into a coma from shock. He also needed him to be awake so they could attempt to do something to stem the wounds and perhaps buy some time.

His scans ran over Sam from head to toe, an in depth analysis that he hadn't done in a long time, ever since he started seeing him as more than just a flesh being but as a partner. His sensors told him the spark energy that had previously infiltrated every cell was gone, the damage it caused already fading as the body fought off the mutations and aberrations that didn't belong. It was a bittersweet victory, the implications of which he couldn't bring himself to think of. He could already feel the difference. Sam had returned to being just a presence within him, a pressure on his seat cushions that could have just as easily been a pile of metal or a rock as a human being. Oh he could tell the difference between the three substances easily enough, but the impact was the same. No thrill of spark energy surged through him, no sense of the spark he had bonded to. Nothing. He still recognised his mate, but it was like looking through a pane of glass, able to recognise and see each other, but never being able to touch or communicate. It was that reason as much as jealousy that would force him to leave Sam and take his own path. It would be torture always seeing but never again having.

"B?" It was a painfully hesitant voice that roused him from his negative calculations, his momentary lapse letting Sam's return to wakefulness slip past his sensors.

"Sam." He'd come to understand that the usual follow on to a greeting was to ask someone how they were feeling, but in this case it seemed pathetically redundant.

"Are we safe? Did it… did it work?" His human's brown eyes stared at the centre console with both pain and hope, as though he knew the answer and both anticipated and dreaded to hear it.

"It did Sam. The energy of the spark is gone; you're no longer dying because of it." He watched as tears began to leak from those same eyes, the sounds of crying filling his interior. He didn't know if it was due to the pain or their separation or maybe both, but the vision wrenched his spark apart.

"God, it's gone B. I can't feel anything anymore." It was then that he realised Sam was running one of his hands back and forth across the leather of the seat, trying to feel anything beyond what should be there, but there was nothing. Bumblebee could feel it, the sensation itself doing nothing for him, but the knowledge that it was his bonded setting his spark to pulsing. There would be no more climactic joining from this point, only the gentle knowledge of them being together.

"I know. But you will live Sam." The phrase didn't comfort his mate as he had thought, instead causing him to cry out and struggle against the belts still tangled round him. Bumblebee hurriedly retracted them, knowing that the struggling was causing Sam pain and potentially making his wounds worse. As proof of that he noticed increased blood flow from the injuries and swiftly tilted the front seats forward and threw open both doors to give Sam as many exit points as possible, his human taking advantage of that and stumbling out onto the ground. Even as he transformed his scanners kept a close eye on what was happening to his bound, until he could crouch next to the boy who was on his hands and knees. There was a slight edge of panic to his synthesiser as he spoke, desperately wanting to touch and sooth away the fear and pain but knowing that touching would only cause more.

"You have to relax Sam. You will injure yourself further." His human moved surprisingly swiftly for someone as damaged as he was, going from bent over, to kneeling and facing him within a second, his fists swinging and banging against his armour with a thud.

"I don't care B. What does it matter?" He could see tears spill down the face he had fallen in love with and bound himself to, then watched as the face twisted with venom.

"What's the point in going on like this?" The words were bitter, almost selfish and there was an unexpected surge of anger in his systems at the hopeless tone his mate had adapted, his urge to comfort him swept aside. His vocaliser was harsh, almost a bark of simulated speech.

"Because you have your entire life before you now Sam. You ask why you should continue living without the effects of the bond when I will live this way for far longer than you. Your suffering may seem like an unbearable length of time but consider how it will be for me. I will live thousands of years longer than you, I have a memory that does not fade with time and the ability to experience those thousands of years in increments of microseconds." He got as close as he dared to those brown eyes, knowing that his human was often overwhelmed by the glow of his optics, his vocaliser toning down to a precisely modulated discordant twist that set human nerves on edge.

"Your pain will be nothing compared to mine Sam, so do not complain to me about the futility of your life." There was a moment of stunned silence between them as they both tried to comprehend that for the first time he had raised his voice in anger. He stepped back to give them both room to think. He took the opportunity to observe their surroundings, a bare and unremarkable stretch of road in a relatively unremarkable section of land. To one side a brief stretch of palm trees filled the few dozen feet before the beach, while to the other open grassy plains stretched, mountains in the distance and outcroppings of trees surrounding them. A dry wind gently caressed all of it, a peaceful setting that only pointed out exactly how remote they were from both human and autobot civilisation.

"I'm sorry B." It was barely a whisper over the breeze and rustling of trees but his audio receptors picked it up regardless.

"It's ok Sam. I understand." His bonded made a gesture indicating that he wanted him to come closer again, so he once more bent down over him and extended his hand so they could touch. The slickness of Sam's blood on his metal fingers was an uncomfortable feeling and he directed his sensors outwards again, running them back and forth over his mate.

He almost missed it at first, the tiny pulse of recognition that resonated with the frequency of his scans. The second time it caught his attention, his sensors zeroing in on that beat that had nothing to do with Sam's heart, causing a pulse that was at once extremely familiar and yet totally alien. He'd felt it before, but it didn't belong where it was.

"Sam. Would you please remove your shirt?" His sensors already told him what he would find, but he refused to believe it until his optics had observed it as well, the vibration that tingled between their hands seeming too much of a gift to be accepted without proof. It ceased as their hands separated, his mate pulling the tattered remnants of the garment over his head, the pain obvious as his face twisted and more tears slid from his eyes. He obviously sensed the urgency in his tone however, as he complied without question.

The ruined garment was slowly pulled upwards and away, revealing his stomach and chest, relatively unscarred compared to his back, with only a few puncture wounds as evidence of the battle they had been through. Even in that state it stirred the surging of desire he always felt around Sam, tempered now by both fear at his injuries and hope at what would be revealed. Most of the damage was an angry red, inflamed and weeping or beginning to scab over, but a small wound, barely larger than the tip of a screwdriver, was different. It had pierced his throat, above the sternal notch, entering just at enough of an angle to avoid the major arteries as well as the oesophagus and windpipe. Compared to his other injuries it seemed like a lucky, though hardly significant wound, but around it dark veins had spread. Like spider webs they radiated out from the point of entry, covering only a few inches across his chest and around the base of his throat. Buried inside the wound lay the projectile that had caused it, smaller than a pea, but emitting a faint light that his optics could detect through the thin layers of skin.

It resonated with his presence and the sweeping of his scans until even Sam noticed that something was going on, his soft hand returning to grasp one of B's metal fingers. The first jolt crossed the distance between their clasped digits like a sudden stab with a small pin, the second lasting longer and then longer again. Light seemed to glow where flesh met alloy, those delicate ribbons of power that had marked their first joining spiralling out and upwards, curling around his bonded's arm like streamers, gently tangling about him as though blown by some hidden breeze.

His eyes were slightly panicked as they met his blue optics, asking for answers he didn't have, but when the light connected with the dark veins in his human's neck there was a flash that seemed to encase him like a shield, and whited out every scanner at his disposal, rendering them useless, his only connection through his fingers where Sam clutched at him. With instantaneous and overwhelming force the bond slammed back between them, the connection almost dangerously strong. For a brief instant he could almost feel everything that occurred within the human body before him, could feel the cells multiplying and dividing, could feel each breath in and out, each heartbeat as though they were his own.

It lasted a total of only 1.6 seconds, a period of nothing to a human, an eternity of remembered bliss to him, and then it faded, disappearing as swiftly as it arrived. Where their hands still touched though the bond was once more alive and strong, the connection prompting feelings of joy and ecstasy that he'd thought would be forever lost to him.

His focus adjusted with seemingly agonising slowness, filtering and balancing to compensate for the sudden flash, before finally returning to operation and taking in his mate before him. His processors stopped, everything ceasing to function as his sight and scans were met by perfect unbroken flesh, no trace of the former wounds or trauma evident except for the lace like formation at the base of that beautiful neck. His head reared back with a click and whir of gears that seemed abrupt and sudden to suit the depth of his surprise, watching as the eyes staring at him faded from bright blue to their usual brown and he released his human's hand. He made no effort to hide his wonder and astonishment as his vocaliser desperately tried to put in to words everything he was feeling, finally only able to mutter a brief phrase before it seemed to short out on him with shock.

"By Primus. The Allspark…"

_Fin_


	14. Chapter 14

**Combustion**

_Thanks to all the people who reviewed 13 :) It was wonderful to read them (you know since I actually got notified of them this time)._

_I'm glad people liked the way I took it – well for the most part anyway._

_**This will be the final chapter of Combustion.**_

_There will more than likely be a sequel (forecast is for about 85), as the way I wanted to head from this point will disagree with some people – as is usually the case – so I wanted to give them the opportunity to bail out of the fic without abandoning it and never getting an ending. So while this is strictly speaking an 'epilogue' that wraps up – sort of – the story of combustion, it will NOT be wrapping up the overall arc._

_Does that make sense?_

**Chapter 14 (Also known as Epilogue)**

The café was incredibly busy; the crush of body against body was like ripples in a stifling sea of humanity that threatened to drown the body and overwhelm the senses. The noise was incredible, whiting out the clinking of crockery as Sam picked up a couple of dirtied mugs that had been left on one of the tables and deposited them on his tray. A careful balancing act followed as he stacked them carefully, to avoid them sliding off every time another person collided with him. It was hot and dirty work, far from the peace and tranquillity he remembered while going to school and living at home, but it didn't bother him that much. He didn't doubt his parents loved him and cared for him, but he didn't want to deceive himself into believing it had all been perfect either. They were a normal family after all, and while he would have given anything to be back with them again, he couldn't, so he wasn't going to make his life here harder by reflecting on what he'd lost. It's not like he had a lot of choice in the matter, he needed to eat, he needed clothes, and they couldn't draw too much attention to themselves by committing bank or ATM fraud. It would draw police as well as Autobot or Decepticon attention. That, and the fact that it was wrong.

He wasn't a thief. He still felt bad about the two hundred bucks they'd hacked a couple of weeks ago on the first day he was here. Without a shirt and only shredded jeans, there'd been nothing else to do though. Honest employment would have been impossible looking like a blood spattered drifter. He'd tentatively suggested the ATM to Bumblebee and his autobot had been only too happy to do it for him, but taking the money from the machine had made him feel dirty in a way that soap wouldn't remove. So he'd bought himself some decent clothes, nothing fancy, just a few shirts and a couple of pairs of jeans as well as the essentials. The cash had disappeared within a day, and when B had asked if he wanted him to hack them some more he had swiftly declined, instead presenting himself at every coffee shop, restaurant and store he could find in an effort to gain some employment. It needed to be low key, cash in hand, no questions asked. It was a set of conditions that had proved extremely difficult to find.

Eventually he'd settled on the story of a backpacker, hiking his way around the country, a tale helped both by his accent and his plain state of dress. He'd made sure B was never anywhere nearby where he worked, not willing to risk anyone questioning how a penniless hiker was driving a brand new Camaro, the model of which wasn't even available in the country. It was still strange, getting into the opposite door and seeing the wheel on, what to him, was definitely the incorrect side. Luckily it didn't seem to bother Bumblebee at all, and so far there hadn't been a single hiccup in the quality of the driving. At least not since they'd almost ploughed into that fuel tanker while driving on the 'wrong' side of the road, after his miraculous recovery.

Miraculous. It was the only word that seemed adequate to describe what had happened to him, the disappearance of the pain he'd felt, the re-establishment of their bond. It was something that still seemed impossible, that he wasn't dying, that he wasn't scarred, that he could have _both_ Bumblebee and a life of more than a few short months. B's scans had taken an hour to tell them that, the most thorough examination any of the Autobots had ever put him through, the bot apologising constantly that he couldn't do it with the speed Ratchet would have managed. It had started out as a seemingly long time, lying still on the grass as the blue glow of optics slowly swept back and forth across his body. But as time passed and he became aware of how exposed he was underneath that gaze, wearing nothing but the remains of his tattered jeans, and how the amazing machine he was bonded to loomed above him with a power and strength that was beyond any man to fight, he felt arousal uncoil like a slumbering serpent in his stomach. He'd felt B's own arousal stir in response to his, a different sensation to an organic being but arousal all the same, and the glow of those optics became a warming caress across his skin. By the time the scans were done he'd felt no great urge to stand up again from his prone position, noticing that Bumblebee made no move to back away from where he was kneeling above him.

The feeling of lying between those huge thighs was one of the most erotic things he'd ever experienced, looking up the slim metal torso with its yellow and black armoured plates and seeing the same emotion in reverse projected on that seemingly expressionless face. The arms were taut as they rested in the dirt to each side of him, supporting the metallic torso, the entirety of his autobot seeming to vibrate and scream with need.

"You are not dying Sam. There appear to be no ill effects." He said nothing about the lacewing web of veins that now coiled around his throat and slightly down his chest and Sam asked for no clarification. If B said he was fine that was all he needed to know. The urge wasn't as strong this time, not like it had been before, to obey and accept everything his bot told him, but it was there again. The compulsion was gone, the absolute obedience, now seeming more like a default that his brain was set on, like his first instinct was to obey. But he could also feel the ability to override it if he wanted to, an instinct that, like most remaining human instincts, could be ignored when needed. Because of that, it no longer scared him as it had, now seeming more like a comforting set of clothes that had been well worn in, warm and trusting, a knowledge that even if he sometimes found himself unable to deny or dispute something Bumblebee wanted, his autobot would always have his best interests at heart.

He wondered briefly if this was the knowledge that soldiers on the battlefield often spoke of, the understanding that no matter what happened, that person was always there, watching your back. It made him wonder how he'd ever thought he could live without it, how he'd denied Bumblebee when they first spoke of it, citing all those things like children, family and a future. He remembered talking about sleeping in an empty bed in an empty house, but he realised now that would never happen. He could _feel_ B, not necessarily as a physical body pressed against his at night, but something even closer, something present in both his heart and mind, reminding him constantly that he was with him, that he was loved, that he was owned. He had no doubt there would be problems, conflicts, societal and moral issues to come in the future, but through it all he knew they would be bonded so securely, so tightly, that nothing could break them apart now. There would be no such guarantee in a marriage between humans.

The touch of that metal hand had shocked him out of his thoughts as it gently touched the grey/silver veins of his throat, setting his nerves on fire as the bond went from a passive presence to a forceful drive. White overwhelmed his vision in a sensation that was now becoming familiar but could never become routine. The tips of the fingers trailed the veins down from his collarbone until they ended a few inches further, leaving the faded ends to brush gently across his left nipple, wringing a gasp from him and widening his eyes to almost rapturous proportions. His noise seemed to prompt his bonded to action, the giant head and blazing eyes bending closer, until he thought the heat burning in them would surely scorch his skin. The feeling of power, the sensation of surrender, he shivered in ecstasy at the knowledge of what was being done to him and the dominance practically oozing from his autobot. It felt right and so perfect, those optics promising him pleasure beyond belief if he would just submit himself to their control.

The fingers continued their interrupted trail down his skin, caressing his side before sliding smoothly down his abdomen until they reached the low sitting waist of his jeans. The thought occurred to him to remove them, to let B do whatever he wanted, even briefly contemplating exactly how big those fingers were, but he found himself unable to move. He had surrendered himself to this and the bond now brooked no argument with Bumblebee in control. There had been no order to remove his pants, and his hands refused to do so under his own volition.

His mate bent over further, his head moving slightly further away so their chests were aligned, and even though he had no idea if Autobots were even capable of physical intimacy as humans did, the position was so overwhelmingly sexual that at that moment he wished for nothing other than that they were the same size, so he could wrap his legs around his bot and surrender more than just his mind and heart. The flash of disappointment was gone almost as soon as it appeared as B once again opened the cavity in his chest that sheltered his essence, the light revealing itself as a sunrise to a blind man, rapturously embracing him in its brilliance. With physical pulses he felt their two cores communicating, not with words but with sensation, the pull towards each other as magnetic as he remembered, crying out to be one. No verbal order was given but he felt it nonetheless, and he slowly raised his hand from the grass, reaching into the light as he had on the island, only this time without intention to stop. Lightning crackled between his fingers and the spark, its shape clouded by its own searing light. He could tell he was close though, the jolts travelling back and forth through him in waves just as the suspension bridge had after being struck by Starscream, each pulse pushing him towards completion. He wanted to draw it out; to make the feeling last longer, desperate to deny those typical teenage stereotypes of finishing quickly, but the desire was too much.

"There will many more times to experience this Sam; there is no need to prolong it." It almost seemed that B could feel his brief pause and discern the cause for it without words, the statement not really an order but the intent certainly acting as one. His hand crossed the last small gap without hesitation, the lightning getting even more intense, until he felt the warmth in his hand and the pulsing became a physical throb that travelled up his arm and he lost the ability to think anymore.

The memory of their passionate bonding, the first of many since coming here, still made him blush. It had been yet another reason for his need for new clothing, and he hurriedly looked away from the table he'd been staring at. The group of guys sitting around it were already giving him funny looks at the pink tint to his cheeks. He swiftly ducked into the kitchen and deposited the dirty crockery into the machine, the clock on the wall telling him his shift had been over for twenty minutes. The owner, a nice Italian guy called Ben, shortened from Benito, was waiting for him at the back door, envelope in hand and a smile on his moustached face. He grabbed the money with a short thanks and ducked out of the kitchen door into the alley. It was a modest wage, though more than enough to live on when one lived out of their car. He was too young to rent and he wouldn't have wanted to at any rate, it would only be adding his name to the system.

He'd thought about assuming an alias to get by, but that meant proof of ID, drivers licences, bank accounts, all stuff he couldn't get. So 'Sam' he had remained. It was emblazoned across the front of the envelope, a plain everyday name that didn't draw attention, and he wasn't likely to forget it when someone called it out in a crowded room.

The alley was a rather dingy affair, meant mainly as a holding place for the bins of the various businesses that bordered it and when he turned out onto the main street, it was almost as busy as the café had been. Friday nights were always big business, and tonight was no exception. Guys in board shorts, women in bikinis they moved back and forth across the sidewalks, weaving in and out of the other patrons dressed in suits and ties or jeans and jackets. The town wasn't huge, certainly nothing compared to anything he'd seen back home, but he'd slowly come to realise that things here worked differently. Everything was smaller, cosier, with an emphasis placed on better rather than bigger. It made for an interesting state of mind, and an even more interesting mix of clientele.

One of the regulars shouted to him from across the road, inviting him to come join them for an evening picnic and to watch those surfers and swimmers who refused to let darkness drag them from the water when so many spotlights were around. He threw them a wave but declined the invitation as he continued on his way, knowing the offer would be there later, and next week, and the one after that. It was the kind of town it was, the kind of place that was almost always warm, a chill breeze or cold snap treated as a novelty rather than a changing of the weather. It was an environment that seemed to foster warmth between people, not just in the air.

The sounds of laughter came out of every restaurant and shopfront he passed by, outdoor tables cluttering the wide footpath but bridging the gap between pedestrian and patron, offering the former an invitation to enter, and asking the latter to stay. Off to the other side of the street the park stretched away in both directions, palm trees and covered barbeque spots dotted along its length. Numerous spotlights shone down on features and points of interest, fairy lights strung up between the trees and water gushing forth from the fountains. Beyond that he could hear the crash of surf on the shore and the cries of adults and children alike, while a little further down were the large lamps that illuminated the sand and the Friday night volleyball competition. Even as he watched, the tiki torches that ran along the shoreline came to life, the timer starting the gas and igniting them at the same time every night, the purpose merely mood setting.

He'd reached his street however, so turned away from the brightly lit foreshore, heading into the more urban part of the beachfront community, the glow of shops and stores replaced with the white glare of streetlamps and headlights. It wasn't important to him what his surroundings were though, because up ahead was the reason for his existence, the yellow and black camaro looking fast and deadly as it sat unattended in the small side street. He felt a smile cross his face as the headlights flashed at him in welcome, the drivers door swinging open for him as it always did. As it always would. He settled back into the supple leather, that constant hum that was now forever a part of their bonding travelled through him as it did B and he gently ran a hand over the steering wheel as a greeting.

"_If you're lost you can look and you will find me, time after time."_

It was a lyrical and soft remix of the classic and he allowed himself to relax to it, knowing that for them there would never be anymore looking, knowing their future was just beginning. He knew they'd have more troubles ahead, that there were still people after them, and that they were essentially alone in a strange country, he missed his parents, Mikaela, school, all of it. But it wasn't the driving force in his life anymore. He was sure someday he'd be able to see them again, and as long as he had B they would face everything together, a team that would never let anything separate them.

"_I'll always be waiting. Time after Time."_

He rest his head on his hand, elbow leant against the top of the door trim, while his other hand rose to scratch through the shirt at the dark veins that now twined down to surround his left nipple and circled the bulge of his bicep. He looked out the window over the rooves of houses, to where the distant glow announced the lively foreshore that had become a part of his life. He fit in here now, he belonged. He had friends, a job, and Bumblebee.

"Hey B, let's go for a drive."

And at the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

_The End_

_Ok… I'm just going to say WOW to myself… I mean even I want a sequel and I wrote the damn thing! Usually I'm pretty down on my chapters, not liking the way they went or ended, but this one I love :) so if I get enough of a response there is definitely going to be sequel ahoy lol :D_

_I really hope you guys have enjoyed reading combustion as much as I've enjoyed writing it. This has been one of the best experiences and you've all been so fantastic and supportive with great reviews and comments. It's gotta be one of the best fandoms on the net in terms of people actually supporting the writers rather than just reading and not reviewing._

_Thanks again guys/girls/things:)_


	15. Ignition teasertrailer

**Ignition**

_Well since everyone seemed keen for a sequel this is the announcement that there will be one :)_

_Title is Ignition (sticking with the engine/car titles because hey – I love cars)._

_This is the teaser which I am posting both under 'Combustion' and under its new title (which I'm sure probably violates some website rule) so that people will know to look for it and can set up alerts etc if they wish to._

_Looking forward to writing for you people again. I've had my like week off and am keen to go again. See what happens when you imply that you're interested? – you end up STUCK with me!!! Oh and have you all had enough of my 'like, totally, like,' speaking style? Believe it or not I DO speak like that… I'm a product of growing up in the 90's :) _

_By the way, I tried really hard in both Combustion and in this chapter to make sure the time zones are correctly reflected… The west coast of the US is 18 hours behind the east coast of Australia, so while it's 10am Friday for us, it's 4pm Thursday for you (most of you) and since I'm going with the idea that the movie took place in California, (I hear differing points of view on this so I'm taking creative license… Plus I've been to California so I at least know a little bit) so I tried to make the times/days reflect that._

**Teaser/Chapter 1**

The sun beat down with an intensity that the young man wasn't used to, made obvious by the sweat pouring down his face as his hand lifting to shade himself a little from the brilliant blue sky. In the far distance faint hints of cloud barely crested the horizon behind the island just offshore, an inviting image that probably graced the cover of many a travel magazine. Behind him the breakwater curved into what eventually became a river, a few highrises marking what must have been the business district, the manmade structures overshadowed by the enormous red tinted cliffs of the hill next to them. He was wearing nothing more than board shorts and a wifebeater, a baseball cap his only protection from the rays that scorched the human skin as easily as a barbeque cooked a steak. The enormous cargo ship beside him was unloading, its few travellers disembarking as cranes rolled along giant iron rails to begin the slow task of removing the many different types of items stacked and stored aboard.

The large stern door that towered above him abruptly came to life with a shrill whistle of warning sirens, red flashing lights at each corner announcing its slow descent toward the ground. Behind it the cavernous hold of the ship loomed like a fluorescent lit cave, vanishing into the distance until the bow couldn't be made out. Stored within was row after row of multicoloured cars, stacked like children's toys in a box, neatly and perfectly parked by the crew before leaving port. Now it would be the job of this crew to oversee the equally long and arduous task of getting them off.

A shrill ringing tone cut through the sounds of the dock and machinery, the black bag at the man's feet vibrating slightly against his calf, causing him to bend over and extract a small curved mobile phone from the side pocket. He raised it to his ear and flipped the clamshell open, his other hand lifting to press against the opposite ear to minimise the noise.

"Lennox here." There was too much ambient noise in the air to hear even a dull murmur of the voice on the other end of the line, the cranes and machinery continuing their thankless chores in the background.

"Yes I understand that. We both do. We know how to take care of ourselves." The hard eyes observed as a large truck was driven carefully out of the hold, the hand pressed to his ear temporarily lifted to wave, the crew member driving over as he evidently noticed the waving limb.

"We're not going to do anything stupid, this is me you're talking to." The truck drew to a halt in the bright sunlight, the driver stepping down from the cab of the pickup and handing over the keys. The man nodded in what must have been thanks, but as soon as the keys left his hand the staffer was turning away in a brisk jog back toward the cool and shaded interior of the ship. The machine and the man were left alone on the hot black asphalt for a second before the shining vehicle shuddered for a second, and with a whirring sound the steering wheel was folded away into the dash before reappearing on the opposite side of the cab.

"Ha ha Maggie, you're a regular riot. Look we know why we're here and we'll fly below the radar ok. We'll track them down. And tell Keller to stop laughing, he knows speakerphone works both ways right?" In the distance the chain link gate that closed off the far end of the wharf slowly slid open, a plain white sedan waiting patiently for it to finish.

"Besides, shouldn't he be more concerned with tracking down the decepticons? And get someone out to the Witwicky's, I haven't been able to get a hold of them for at least a week, and if Sam tries to reach someone it'll be them." With a soft whisper of tyres the white sedan drew to a halt between the truck and the speaker, a plain, slightly overweight, middle aged man stepping out of the driver's door, tie and jacket fully fastened in spite of the heat.

"Yeah well keep us updated ok? Just cos we're at the ass end of the world doesn't mean you can forget about us." The phone was pulled away from the curve of the man's ear as a squawk that even sounded louder than the machinery came out of the small handheld phone. A smile crossed his face as he pressed it back in place.

"Alright, fine that was uncalled for. I apologise. We've already been searching the globe for weeks though without success, the novelty is definitely starting to wear off here." The occupant of the white car made no move to approach while the phone conversation was going on, standing next to the closed door of his vehicle, black attaché case firmly in hand.

"Fine, but the satellites have lied before and there's been no sign of Megatron, Starscream, Sam or Bumblebee at any of the coordinates they detected. If this place doesn't pan out I think it might be time to accept that they really don't want to be found yet." Behind the unknown man in the suit the large truck flashed its lights, the younger man rolling his eyes in response.

"Yeah ok I gotta go Maggie, you know who is getting antsy and I've already seen those cannons close enough for one lifetime. Keep in touch ok? Bye." The clamshell clicked as it flipped shut, carefully slipped back into the bag which was hoisted over a muscular shoulder.

"Captain Lennox?" Not a drop of sweat appeared on the man's face, in spite of the heat, the one he was speaking to frantically flapping his singlet to get some air circulating.

"Who else were you expecting? I take it you're the contact I'm supposed to meet?" A smile suddenly appeared on the elder's face, the white teeth glowing in the sun.

"I.O. Patterson sir, the D.G. personally gave me the orders to meet you here, so you'll understand if this is a somewhat unusual situation for me. ASIO isn't traditionally in the business of covertly sneaking US military officers _into_ the country, especially with a great lump of a truck." The two clasped hands in a friendly if somewhat cautious manner.

"Yes well, this is a once in a lifetime mission Agent Patterson, so you'll need to excuse us if it seems we're foregoing the usual inter-departmental niceties, but my orders came direct from the top." The hand that wasn't weighed down by the attaché case waved dismissively as the briefcase was placed on the white bonnet beside them and with a press the lid flipped open.

"Don't worry about it, dealing with the unexpected is all part of our jobs right? Anyway I've got all your documentation in here for you. Drivers licence, vehicle registration, medicare card, three hundred in cash as well as an agency credit card and a warning sticker for your car being left hand drive." There was a moment's pause as they both looked at the truck sitting innocently nearby, the wheel clearly visible on the right.

"Hmmm. My mistake. Anyway, there're also some papers that should take care of any trouble with local law enforcement, but the agency insisted that I pass on that this doesn't mean you have free reign to do whatever you want. I've also thrown in some maps and contact numbers. Oh, and it should go without saying that you are not to threaten or harm anyone, nor participate in any police action without approval from the D.G. himself." The papers and cards were carefully removed from the case and folded then slid into the shoulder bag.

"Understood." It appeared there was nothing else to be said between them, and with a nod the suit clad agent returned to the interior of his white sedan. A second later the engine purred to life and guided the vehicle back towards the gate it had entered through, the guard waving it through without asking to see any ID. The door of the large truck swung open almost like an invitation, and the backpack was slung up into the cab with practiced ease.

"Well big guy, ready to try all this again?" With a rumble the machine came to life and the man hoisted himself into the driver's seat, the belt sliding around him to lock him in place.

"Will, may I ask a question?" The voice seemed to come from nowhere in particular, a warm tone to it that echoed in the cabin.

"Sure partner." The man in the driver's seat was sorting through the papers and other items he had just received, some placed in a wallet, others in the backpack, while the remainder were secreted somewhere about his person.

"The human word 'town' refers to a small community is this not correct?" The head nodded distractedly in an affirmative.

"Then why is a moderately sized regional capital called 'Townsville'?" The man's laugh was sharp, the wallet tossed onto the opposite seat.

"Ok, ok, you've been trapped in the hold of the ship for a week, I get it, we'll talk. You just keep your sensors out for anything unusual." The truck vibrated a little as they turned onto what looked like a main street.

"Always, my friend."

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The house rang with unearthly silence, the absence of sound becoming a sound itself as the ear tricked itself into hearing things that simply weren't there. The upstairs bedrooms were open, the doors and windows wide, letting in the air from outside. In one room several posters had come loose from the walls, joining scattered clothes and knick knacks on the floor, fluttering a little in the breeze. In the hallway a couple of dry leaves stirred restlessly on the timber floor, sliding with a faint hiss across the polish, twirling with each other in a secret dance before disappearing into an open door. Beneath an open window next to the stairs a small puddle of water had collected between the banister and the skirting board, a lake brought to life by recent rains blown under the eve, the plasterboard under the windowsill streaked brown with die run from the curtains.

Downstairs the atmosphere was just as heavy, the lounge room silent and unoccupied, most of the curtains stirring slightly in the wind. Beside the couch, one of the large drapes was caught on a timber end table, the vast swathe of fabric blocking off one corner of the room like a screen, evidence of a fierce gust of wind that had also tossed the magazines into a frenzy of brightly coloured, glossy paper, raining them onto the carpet where they joined a smashed lamp, victim of the curtain's rage. Across the room the large television that usually filled the house with sound sat dead and dark, the remote lying haphazardly on a cushion as though its user had thrown it there in a rush, a thin film of dust coating it as proof of the period of inactivity.

Through the archway, a glimpse of the dining room presented an equally vacant spectacle, the china cabinet against one wall stood open, several antique or collectible plates and cups laid out on the table nearby. Cleaning supplies sat ignored on the polished timber surface, a bottle that still contained traces of something green now lying on its side, the contents spilt in a once viscous mass across the table top. Now dry, only an outline remained, but where the liquid had touched, the polish had blistered and cracked, the glossy veneer peeling and flaking to pieces, as though the furniture was desperately trying to shed the damaged section, as an animal would shed dead skin. Where the damage met the table edge, a small stalactite of chemical clung to the lip, the only remaining evidence of the cleaner's presence, a dusty circle on the floor beneath it created by runoff from the spill above. A decorative plate lay broken next to it, several unconnected pieces scattered to the corners of the room, but the remainder still able to give the impression of George Washington's stern gaze from its shattered porcelain face.

From the dining room the kitchen beckoned like a dark mouth, the blinds here closed, casting thin beams of light through the gaps, turning the room into a black and white universe of film noir-esque qualities. Set before the blinds behind the sink, a row of terracotta pots was laid out in single file, the soil within gone dry. Protruding from them were the brown and desiccated stalks of plants, a botanist required to be able to determine their original species or genus. Beside the bench, the fridge hummed quietly in the corner, the only audible sound in the otherwise silent house, the temperature gauge on the front throwing a faint green glow. On the other side of the room, standing beside the door to the front foyer, an antique clock appeared frozen at 2pm, the pendulum unmoving behind its glass panel, the ubiquitous ticking silenced. Hanging around it, the chains of the mechanism were fully extended, their weights lying in the bottom of the case, as though they had strained to keep the timepiece running even as gravity unceremoniously pulled them onto their side and robbed them of power.

In the centre of the kitchen the table was neatly laid, a tea set arrayed in the middle, clean and sparkling in the dusty, striped air. Surrounding it like a bevy of loyal bodyguards were arrayed five cups and saucers, a noticeable gap marking a missing sixth set that was nowhere to be seen. Beside them, a generic supermarket loaf of bread lay sealed in its plastic coffin, the green and white mould that covered it like a forest, moving slowly in undulating waves as hidden creatures burrowed beneath its surface.

Past the moving bread, on the hard tiles of the floor, a sparkling cascade of light shimmered, a breadcrumb like trail of silvered glass stretching toward the foyer, both beckoning the eye to follow it to its source and warning the observer not to obey. It disappeared through the door with a fan like spray, the path crossing the deep red carpet before eventually leading to its point of origin. A tall sideboard lay across the narrow entry, the mirror that had adorned it smashed violently as, unable to collapse completely onto its side, it had slammed into the opposite wall, now propped up there like a drunken sailor. The drawers had slid forward as it fell, spilling their contents out to spread themselves amongst the sharp glass daggers; keys, placemats and assorted junk collected over a lifetime, now little more than brightly coloured confetti throughout the small room. Hats and coats that had somehow managed not to come loose during the collapse still hung from their hooks, the angle causing them to hang at an odd degree from the cabinet. Across the back of one of them a crimson stain, now dried almost black, marred the cream jacket, the outline of fingers clearly visible in the smear of colour. Another matching handprint marred the coffee coloured wallpaper not far away, the clean outline turning into a smear before streaking towards the front door. Sliced in amongst the stain, several gashes gouged into the wall, the small grooves resembling fingernails that had desperately scrabbled for purchase, evidence that whoever had left them had done so unwillingly.

Beneath the marks, the carpet had been bunched and ruffled, the woven lushness piled like a discarded napkin on a dinner tray, the runner torn from its fastenings, a man's shoe wrapped up within its billowing folds. Behind them a faint glimmer of light came from the corner near the front door, a brassy reflection that announced the presence of a shell casing, unmarked and featureless except for the slight smear of powder residue that was scorched through the interior and around the rim. The door itself was closed and locked, the deadbolt slid home, however the bracket it slid into had been torn loose from the timber door frame. Around the handle the wood was splintered and buckled, the catch barely caught on the remnants of the striker plate, just enough to keep the door closed against the breeze the stirred the plants outside.

The garden itself appeared slightly unkempt, the grass just a little too long, the plants a fraction too wild, the edges of the path marginally out of alignment. Several small ditches had been dug up across the lawn, a large weight dragged unwillingly across its manicured surface. Two large gouges were also scoured in the gravel of the driveway that ran alongside it, the stones scattered across the grass like seashells at the beach, two plumes of pebbles that almost resembled accusatory arrows, pointing out to the street, urging any who saw them to pursue their unknown target, a warning that help was needed. In the garage a single car sat undisturbed, a blind, mute witness to the events that had transpired, while around the house neighbourhood life continued.

_Fin_

_Ok, this is the trailer/prologue. Is it worth continuing?_


End file.
